501st Blog Post

I just noticed that according to the counter , yesterday’s was my 500th blog post.  Let the celebrating commence.  It wasn’t that long ago that I did not even know what a blog writer did, and now I are one.

The routine for the blog is my trying to get something written four or five times a week, with about  300-400 folks kindly stopping by each day to browse.  Some days a little more, some days a little less.  According to the blogniscenti the readership of a blog should trend upwards over time unless the blog is offensive or spurious, in which case it will either skyrocket or drop like a stone.  My visitorship has remained essentially flat for the past two years which is a curiosity I do not know how to interpret.  I know that one aspect of the blog to which I intend to spend more time is posting my Shellac Archive, which is voluminous.  I am told that soon the web site re-build will be done and it will make it a lot easier for me to get things done and posted.

Still, 500 blog posts is a lot of verbiage.

Who knew that I had that much to say? Well, pretty much anyone who knows me well.  Mrs. Barn has often remarked that one of the reasons I write fiction is that, “You get to put words in everybody’s mouth.”  I suppose I would be irked were it not true.  I don’t get any fiction published, I don’t really try too hard, but some of the stories work for me including one I have been working on for some time that is probably best described as a thinly disguised textbook on furniture conservation collided with a Frederick Forsythe potboiler.  There are another eight or ten novel outlines drafted, just waiting for the manuscripts to write themselves.  I am currently noodling some short story ideas based on the theme of “Jesus as woodworker” but those take a while as I need to get the history/historic technology correct and avoid heresy.  The first one of those is pretty much done, but I am sketching several others.

I also write the occasional radical social/political commentary that I distribute privately or post anonymously.  Combine all that with the ongoing work on leading the charge to get Roubo presented to the Anglophone audience, my currently-under-construction  Historic Finisher’s Manual and another bunch of artifact related manuscripts it is an unusual day when I do not spend at least an hour or two writing, some times a lot more.  If I knew how to actually type it would go faster, but I don’t so it doesn’t, and if my eyes were not in such bad shape I could read faster but I can’t any more.

Enough celebrating. Back up the hill to the barn.  Or maybe just sit in the recliner with the laptop.  I have this idea…