Editing

I am a non-stop talker who has (yes, really!) kissed the Blarney Stone.  That's something I did on a visit to Blarney in Cork many years ago.  It's not an easy thing, kissing the Blarney Stone.  Stupid custom really, but since everyone else was doing it, I too did, looking rather ridiculous if you must know.  You almost take your life in your hands doing that, lying down backwards and grabbing on to something to steady you while you smooch this inanimate object that's supposed to give you the gift of a persuasive tongue.  Did it work?  I suppose so.  I suppose my husband would be the best person to confirm that.  He can't say no to me.  Well, not much anyway! 

I write like I talk and I know I talk way too much for my own good.  My mother's elder sister, my aunty Nuala, put it very well when she said 'you let people know you.'  I give far too much away.  I really do admire people who can be all secretive and silent, but that's just not me.  Never could be.  I'd like to think that makes me something like Juliet in the Shakespeare play, when she says 'trust me gentleman, I'll prove more true than those who have the cunning to be strange.'  Yes, I'd like to think it all right. 

I once worked with a lovely girl from county Mayo in the west of Ireland, named Caroline.  We'd been working alongside each other for a couple of weeks and one day, she revealed something to me which thoroughly astonished me.

"Maria, you exhaust me," she said.  "I come home from work every evening completely spent after spending the day listening to you talking.  Do you run on Duracell batteries or what?"

I have to admit, I tried to bite my tongue and speak less often after that.

I did, however, find an outlet for the incessant chatter which goes on in my head and invariably finds it's way to my mouth.  I started writing.  I've had articles and stories published, fiction and non-fiction.  Not much published I have to admit, but it's not a few either.  And then of course, there's the blogging.

The trouble is, not everyone wants to wade through oceans of copious words.  My one and only completed novel (well, there's two actually, but one's only thirty thousand words, the one I'm thinking of here is eighty two thousand) lies unsubmitted and unpublished because I haven't got the wherewithal to do the editing.  Who knows, if I did that I might have a publishable work.  Wouldn't that be great?  Must do something about it.

Come to think of it, I must finish my degree as well.  And speak less. 


This is the weekly post for my blogging group, the Loose Blogging Consortium. We post weekly (usually simultaneously) on a given topic and visit each other to see the different takes we have on the same topic. We are, in alphabetical order, Delirious, Rummuser, Grannymar, Magpie, Maria SF, ocdwriter, Padmum, Paul,Rohit , The Old Fossil, Shackman and Will. If you have time, please visit my friends too.  This topic was suggested by Grannymar

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