Like many others on the blogs I follow I have been submitting my writing to publishers. In the push to get some of my work published I’ve come across some of the familiar, old, reliable doubts and fears of mine and a couple of insights that I thought would be cool to share.
Precision in the Age of Machines
His old job as a machinist: settingup coordinates and watching the laser cutting through sheet-metal, inhis voice a longing, or love.He liked that kind of work because it required precision (by him or by the machine, I’m not sure). How admirable. Is there a more desirable asset than precision? A trait I’ve never had, sloppy…
In plump raindrops, the construction worker, with his hard hat and faded denim jeans, dirty-orange safety vest, pulls taut a white string that comes from a manhole in the lane nearest the sidewalk. He labors slowly, like a man pulling a semi; like a centaur. With the rope over his shoulder each step is deliberate…