A Birthday of Sorts

It’s been almost a year since I began this endeavor, this thing I call Hurl’s Treehouse. I started it because I wanted to get my words out to readers. It was (and is) writing and thinking for the fun of it, some weekly bite-sized chunks instead of waiting to publish a novel. Here I am a year later, still writing.

For the statsheads out there, I’ll give you the numbers. In the past year, I have penned 36 posts, a total of 27, 770 words. I average around 800 words/post. All-time, Hurl’s Treehouse has had nearly 1200 visitors. Of course, that give me multiple credits for individuals who have returned to this page over and over.

Speaking of those individuals, you all have written a bit too. Those 36 posts have resulted in 328 comments. Okay, okay, some of those are my replies, so I’m inflating the numbers a bit. Still, I thank you for commenting. Writing is difficult, an activity performed before an absent audience. I can sit and type and think to myself, “This is fantastic!” But that is mere speculation and hope. I don’t really know anything until I’ve released the beast, and you all tell me what you think. If you’re a lurker, get in the game and write a comment or two.

That’s the beauty in creating. Like a painter or musician, I create. I fill a blank screen, string words into sentences in defiance of that taunting cursor. But there’s also the fear in creating. What if I write, really sweat it out, revise and edit and buff the words to a fine sheen? What if there is no response? Crickets. The tree in the forest with no one there to hear it fall. It’s like teaching on Zoom without a live audience, hoping whoever sees it will get the message, but never knowing for sure. Beauty and fear, two sides of the same shiny silver dollar.

My most popular piece was “One Question,” a narrative relating the story of a conversation with my dad about his Air Force life. It garnered 84 views and a slew of great comments. We won’t discuss the clunkers. Let’s just say, sometimes an idea runs like a Ferrari in my head but like a Chevette when it’s on the screen.

That brings me to the final stat. Right now, I have 20 subscribers. I’m assuming those are real folks and not Russian bots (why are they always Russians?). Some of those subscribers may be insidious foreigners hell-bent on destroying America, one treehouse at a time. For this moment, I’m going with 20 legit followers. For whatever reason you’ve subscribed to this humble blog–thanks! If you haven’t subscribed yet, let’s go, ya slacker!

So, where do I go from here? Simply, I keep writing. Sir Edmund Hillary climbed Everest because it was there. Lassie pursued TV for the free dog food (and to save Timmy every week). Spider-Man fights crime because of a random bite from Araneus Oscorpeus, plus a super-cool outfit. NBC keeps trotting out Saturday Night Live every week…bad example. Nobody knows why they do that. You just never know where one’s motivation will come from.

It’s not the money or the fame, trust me. I write because I can. I write because I like it, the challenge and the thrill of publishing my ideas. Because it connects me with people. And maybe, just maybe, you read Hurl’s Treehouse, you ponder and muse and think about where you’ve been or where you’re going. That’s a good thing.

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