A Literary Statute of Limitations
It has been over a decade since I began writing about Ms. Wonder, the Genome, and Princess Amy. However, some literary critics apparently believe a certain "statute of limitations" exists for this type of literary behavior.
If you're a regular here, it won't surprise you to learn that Princess Amy is one of those critics who think my long-running saga should come to an end. She favors writing only the Mindfleet Academy series because, as she puts it, "It's the only series that has reached viral status.
It has been over a decade since I began writing about Ms. Wonder, the Genome, and Princess Amy. However, some literary critics apparently believe a certain "statute of limitations" exists for this type of literary behavior.
If you're a regular here, it won't surprise you to learn that Princess Amy is one of those critics who think my long-running saga should come to an end. She favors writing only the Mindfleet Academy series because, as she puts it, "It's the only series that has reached viral status.
My argument for allowing The Circular Journey to evolve through natural selection, just as God intended, is that all my blog posts are gaining in popularity without limits. In recent months, record numbers of visitors have been reading the posts, and we're now reaching people in 80 countries.
Even though I completely and irrevocably disagree with Amy, I thought it best to seek the counsel of a higher authority.
The Confounding Chronicles
“Wonder,” I called as I climbed the stairs to Ms. Wonder’s studio. “Sorry to interrupt, but a crisis is brewing. My critics say ‘enough is enough’ when it comes to documenting the daily lives of the princess, the islander, and even the Amazon and Netflix crews.”
“They think these chronicles are multiplying like rabbits," I continued, "which is probably true. The thought of it fills them with dread.”
Wonder turned to face me as I entered the studio. She didn't roll her eyes. She didn't sigh. She simply looked at me with a concerned expression.
"First of all," she said. "Stalking the film crews brings you genuine joy, and it keeps you away from Brunswick Beer and Cider..."
"Except for those grouper nuggets," I interjected.
"Yes, except for the grouper," she conceded.
"And, I'd prefer," I added, wanting to get it right, "that we say, 'locating' the crews rather than 'stalking.'"
"Yes, locating,” she agreed, placing odd emphasis on the word. "Given that, I’d say the situation is still beautifully open to debate."
It wasn't the strong, definitive argument I'd hoped for, but, as the saying goes, 'Any port in a storm.' I decided to work with it.
"Despite all the confusion and the heated debates," I said, "one clear fact stands out: as the new year begins, so does my fourteenth year of The Circular Journey."
"Has it been that long?" she asked.
"And I want to stress, Wonder, that I strongly believe anything worth doing is worth doing thoroughly. In that regard, I'm much like Shakespeare—a literary titan who knew the value of a good, long run."
"Hmmm," she said, "I'm not entirely sure about the Shakespeare reference, but I get your point."
"My critics think that multiple stories with recurring characters have a limited shelf life," I said, "but I disagree strongly."
"Well, your comparisons," she said, "the metaphors and the similes might benefit from a little tweaking."
Her comments deserved my careful consideration, and I made a mental note to get to them eventually, but I pressed on with my main objective.
"It's entirely possible, I suppose, to read 'Coastal Camelot,' my most popular post, as a standalone effort and still feel satisfied. But I know there are individuals of a curious spirit—the true devotees—who won't be content until they dig deeper, possibly reading all ten of its most popular companion posts."
"No doubt," she said.
"The blog simply can't be fully appreciated with any less effort, Wonder. Only by reading those specific ten will certain internal references become absolutely clear instead of remaining mystifying and obscure."
"Of course," she said, turning to face her workstation screen again. I realized she'd said all she wanted to say on the matter.
The Power of the Peculiar Word
And now, my friend, after hearing my side of the debate and my defense, I ask you to consider the opening lines from 'Coastal Camelot':
The morning opened with a show so grand and majestic that it made me question Mr. Priddy’s sixth-grade lesson about the Earth’s rotation causing the sunrise. Gazing at this glorious start to the day, I couldn't help but think that only a goddess driving her divine sun chariot could create such a spectacle.
Not bad, right? How could anyone possibly think that such an opening is boring or redundant? And check out these equally un-boring lines from the post I call, 'Life is Good':
I arrived early this morning, riding the shirtsleeves of the sun, who had awakened bright-eyed, rolled up his sleeves, and gotten straight to the point. Not a bad opening for a yellow dwarf star.
I’d personally give that a rating of 5 stars out of 5. And at the risk of overdoing it, let's sample this glorious paragraph from 'Keep On the Sunny Side':
Sunshine stole across the mews from the general direction of the Atlantic Ocean. I'm damned if I know how it's done—smoke and mirrors, probably...
I make these delightful missives available to you, and all my followers, at absolutely no charge, and you're welcome to them. Read the episodes in the most popular list in the column on the front page, and if you're feeling froggy (a technical term for adventurous), try hitting the Random Search button.
Do it now, is my suggestion. Make it a daily habit for the new year. I guarantee that doing so will bring sunshine, blue skies, and birdsong into your inner world—and perhaps even your outer world too, just as it does in mine.
And now, my friend, after hearing my side of the debate and my defense, I ask you to consider the opening lines from 'Coastal Camelot':
The morning opened with a show so grand and majestic that it made me question Mr. Priddy’s sixth-grade lesson about the Earth’s rotation causing the sunrise. Gazing at this glorious start to the day, I couldn't help but think that only a goddess driving her divine sun chariot could create such a spectacle.
Not bad, right? How could anyone possibly think that such an opening is boring or redundant? And check out these equally un-boring lines from the post I call, 'Life is Good':
I arrived early this morning, riding the shirtsleeves of the sun, who had awakened bright-eyed, rolled up his sleeves, and gotten straight to the point. Not a bad opening for a yellow dwarf star.
I’d personally give that a rating of 5 stars out of 5. And at the risk of overdoing it, let's sample this glorious paragraph from 'Keep On the Sunny Side':
Sunshine stole across the mews from the general direction of the Atlantic Ocean. I'm damned if I know how it's done—smoke and mirrors, probably...
I make these delightful missives available to you, and all my followers, at absolutely no charge, and you're welcome to them. Read the episodes in the most popular list in the column on the front page, and if you're feeling froggy (a technical term for adventurous), try hitting the Random Search button.
Do it now, is my suggestion. Make it a daily habit for the new year. I guarantee that doing so will bring sunshine, blue skies, and birdsong into your inner world—and perhaps even your outer world too, just as it does in mine.
