Write a whopper!

(it’s fun)

Harry Hogg
Sep 5, 2018 · 3 min read

I make it a habit to go back and look at something I might have written a year or more back. Without exception, pulling it out, I see how I can change it or make it better. I’m terrible at revising, then and now, and never immediately rewrite any piece of work. It drives me nuts.

Of all the things I ever wrote I never figured out not one piece was special. That means I am no less, no better than any writer who, too, is frayed around the edges. Nothing of my writing experience allows me to pass on something that will make things easier; it hasn’t yet done so for me. It’s a big stew, room enough for all, so draw some comfort in knowing we season this stew together.

But listen to me, this will impress you out of sight, I promise. Naturally, telling what I know to anyone who doesn’t have a yearning to write won’t believe me anyway. But if you have just an inkling of an idea that needs writing down, well, then, with even a miniscule amount of creativity, you’ll absolutely believe me.

Okay, so ten years ago I owned a Koi pond. These days I own the whole wide ocean — all the sea that I can see and then more. Some people, even those claiming to be my friend, don’t believe me. It is not enough simply to call me a friend, or worse, disbelieve based on what is known about me.

So, I’m just stating this fact. I own a damn ocean. It’s outside my window.

Coming home, I heard a lady in the village whisper to her friend: he’s making money now, surely he can afford a better kind of shoe. But that’s the thing — money is earned for comfort’s sake. I’m comfortable with old things, so why not buy an ocean? All life’s schedules have been met and I’m alone again, there are new songs to write or old dreams to dream. I escaped or grew and went off on my own, only now coming back and demanding to be held or shaping myself to be lent or given. The only lies I tell these days are those I tell about myself, not what I own.

Success never embraced me the way kindness has and does. The great thing about age is learning for certain I will not triumph over time. I have longed for love, thought up songs, missed and mourned the times past.

I never had a thing for the tranquil flat lands, clearings calm, fields without mean fences. I was always content to roll down the other side of life believing I couldn’t be seen on realties side. Time, in the end, made me rugged, ragged round the edges, but I know and understand that love is still the safest stay.

So, I can stand here, finally, look out and see my…wait, a young woman is running into my ocean. I throw open the window, hey, lady, that’s my fucking ocean. Go and find your own. You’ll wake my kid.

The Junction

The Junction is a digital crossroads devoted to stories, culture, and ideas. Our interests are legion.

Harry Hogg

Written by

Harry Hogg is a pseudonym

The Junction

The Junction is a digital crossroads devoted to stories, culture, and ideas. Our interests are legion.

Welcome to a place where words matter. On Medium, smart voices and original ideas take center stage - with no ads in sight. Watch
Follow all the topics you care about, and we’ll deliver the best stories for you to your homepage and inbox. Explore
Get unlimited access to the best stories on Medium — and support writers while you’re at it. Just $5/month. Upgrade