Darkness was upon the face of the days

Do you ever wonder where exactly you should start your post? English classes and essay writing told me that my first sentence should be gripping, but does that also apply to a blog post? And what exactly is it that gets people’s attention?

I mean, this post was going to be about a giant, mysterious bruise that appeared on my leg. Should I have started by describing the blue, black, purple, yellow colour of aforementioned bruise? Or would that be just a little off-putting?

I was going to write about how my leg felt a little sore after my train journey on Sun evening.[1] but this whole digression into how to begin seems to have taken over. Besides, I finally remembered that I had been out raking leaves while at home, and after filling and emptying the wheelbarrow[2] a few time I got fed up of how floaty leaves are, and so decided to pack them closer together by standing on them, and yes, this sentence is a bit never-ending, just be glad I like my commas or you’d be dying from lack of oxygen.

Note to all you potential leaf-rakers; standing in a wonky wheelbarrow, especially one with a flat tyre, and then stamping about in it is not a good idea.

No, I didn’t fall or anything, just managed to whack said wheelbarrow against my knee, thus the huge bruise.

But my dilemma remains, how should I have begun this post? And what should I tag it? After all it is now more of a meta-post than a real post, seeing as it is about what makes a post rather than anything else.

And, of course there is the title issue. I knew what I wanted to use, but while I was searching for the exact words[3] I was a little tempted to replace it with something else. Something like this

That when she was born, she had no sky, and was open, inviting. And stars would rush into her, through the skin of her, making the oceans boil with sensation, and when she could endure no more ecstasty, she puffed up her cheeks and blew out the sky

but, although that is, without a doubt, a “good myth” it was a little on the long side, so I stuck with my original idea.[4]

Linknotes:

  1. yes, the train was late, by a whole 15 minutes! and no, my leg didn’t feel sore during the journey, can’t you read? AFTER
  2. which I strangely referred to as an umbrella at a later date
  3. course my reference is the internet, so who knows how accurate that is
  4. – but see how I was as cunning as a very cunning fox and got that quote in anyways

12 Responses

  1. Heather says:

    Fence, you are the only person I know who can turn a bruise into a novel. And that's a complement!

  2. Fence says:

    We likes compliments, oh yes, they are precious shinys (not too sure of that spelling

  3. anne says:

    Not only do we get a post of the highest neurotic quality (and I mean that as a compliment too, believe me), but our details might also be remembered? There's no such thing as too much happiness, is there?

  4. sally says:

    All this for a bruise on your leg…wow!

  5. Fence says:

    So, were your details remembered Anne?

    Sally, I have to write about something :)

  6. Carl V. says:

    Mysterious bruises are the worst…though it does give you the opportunity to make up some weird story about how you got the bruise in the first place! Heal quickly!

  7. Fence says:

    Carl I am shocked at you insinuating that I would make up a weird story. Every word of that is true. Hmmm, not too sure if I should admit to that. Actually, yes, an excuse to make up stories, that what it was

  8. sally says:

    Fence, no, no. I meant you got all this material from a bruise…that to me is amazing!

  9. anne says:

    Nope… Bitter, bitter disillusionment right there… ;) (maybe it's got to do with the fact that I'm not using the pop-up thingy?)

  10. banzai cat says:

    Cool bruise story. Now if you could just add some tentacled-thingys, that'd be awesome. ;)

  11. Fence says:

    Tentacled-thingies? Hmmm, well I can make one up about revisiting the pile of leaves and finding a mutant worm with tentacles threatening to take over the entire garden?