I really never have felt like much of a writer. This job I have has evolved over the years to now include regularly contributing to the station website. That makes sense to me and I am flattered that something I write finds an audience. Really, I am. That said, I know little about the process writers go through when sitting down to work at their craft. I get an idea, usually something about the Sabres or Bills, sometimes about music or running, put some opinions down in a few paragraphs and hit send.
Sitting here trying to do this today is a struggle. I'm not really sure why. Obvious ideas abound. The Bills drafted a bunch of new players, yet still haven't found what many consider to be their long term answer at quarterback. That's interesting enough. The Sabres off-season is here and we'll hopefully see evidence of the organizational change in philosophy soon. I started a column with that as the subject three different times this morning and trashed each one. I am excited about a number of concerts that have already been announced for the Summer. I just can't get there today.
My mind is on a million people I don't know and a few that I do. Men and women who are putting their lives on the line every day. Their families. How are they feeling about Sunday night's news? How are they feeling about some of the reactions to Sunday night's news? How are the families who suffered so much almost ten years ago?
Sports and my job in this world are fun. Sports often serve as a much needed distraction from the heavy real life issues that make up the "real" news. Not the funhouse news.
I guess I must be in one of those moods where I don't want to be distracted from the real news and therefore am having trouble serving as one for you. I'm sorry about that. I'll get where I'm supposed to be by 3pm. I always do. For a little while longer I must need to feel the weight of all that's happened in the past few days.