Writing

Writing seems to have always been the activity that has given me most pleasure. I have worked as a journalist, a technical writer, and a want-to-be novelist. My lack of self-discipline and infrangible laziness have kept me from any semblance of success. I actually got well into the development of a novel on my experience in Vietnam. It died with an unbackedup hard drive. :-(
Much of a writer's writing comes from the writer's reading -- read to write. I am also not a good reader. Again, that probably has a lot to do with my lack of discipline and laziness. I'm easily distracted and frequently leave projects in various stages of incompleteness. My Vietnam project is no exception. I poured my heart into those few chapters of memories. Their loss broke my spirit. And, of course, I had no backup or even an outline. I have never been able to outline. Even in writing classes, I would quickly sketch the required outline from a completed piece of writing. :-)
As I put thoughts and memories on paper, I began to research (read about) the war in Vietnam. I read several great books on the war. The Cat from Hue, by John Laurence is one that held my interest to its completion. John Laurence was a CBS war correspondent. Reading his book was like living the event again. I loved it. His thoughts were my thoughts. His opinions, mine. The above link is to a NY Times review of Laurence's book. The following paragraph is an excerpt from the review.

Excerpt:
When Laurence arrived in Vietnam, he believed the cause honorable and its success certain. After all, the United States had never lost a war. The 25-year-old reporter spent 22 months in the country, spread over more than four years, and the neophyte transformed into a soldier of sorts. When he returned in 1970, in time for the assault against the North Vietnamese command structure in Cambodia, he realized the war was hopeless, that South Vietnam was swollen with corrupt military and political leaders, and yet Richard Nixon proclaimed a determination to win. When he announced the invasion of Cambodia in 1970, Nixon declared, ''The time has come for action!'' And Laurence thought, ''As if five years of bombing and killing Vietnamese has been inaction.''
By this time, Laurence found the killing beyond reason. ''And for what? For pride! For the egos and vanity,'' he writes, of Washington politicians and pundit generals. How can you maintain objectivity in such a climate, he asked a fellow correspondent, who insisted that if you opposed the war, you lost your objectivity. As if accepting the war salvaged your objectivity.

The current action in Iraq is reminiscent of those times. Only the names have changed. I suppose to protect the guilty? Or, confuse the innocent?
Retirement and lack of physical activity have me again dredging my failing mind for memories of those absolutely brilliant words that crashed with that hard drive. It is amazing how much better we remember being than we actually were. :-)
l8r