You wouldn’t believe the ratio of used-posts to unused posts I’ve got.
Often, people ask me about my writing process for WFME. In accomplishing this mind-blowing daily posting, do I write the posts ahead of time or do I write them each and every day? Do I have a backlog that I just schedule to show up or do I spend each and every morning squeezing blood from the proverbial laptop?
To be honest, I have more unused posts sitting in the queue than you could ever imagine.
And so, today, I would like to take the opportunity to share with all of you the current list of posts “in queue” that may someday show up on this site, but more often than not will sit there languishing in the digital graveyard without ever seeing the light of day, unless perhaps, there’s a massive groundswell of enthusiasm, protests and churros.
WFME’s Unused Posts
An Open Letter To You, Supermarket Girl
No, I Will Not Feel That
Don’t Squeeze The Kiwis
I Am Afraid of Long Division
No, I Will Not Taste That
Tomato, Tomahto, Tomatini
Six Of One, Seven of Two
No, I Will Not Smell That
My Problems With You And Your Velcro Shoes
You, Part 3B
No, I Will Not Hold That
If I Was A Tollbooth Taker And You Had Exact Change
Today’s Imaginary Conversation With Pierce Brosnan (Not The Actor)
No, I Will Not Wrap That Up In Packing Tape
The “No I Won’t Do That” Trilogy
Fresh Squeezed Anything & The Warmness Factor
Today’s Prognosis on Prognosises-es-es
I Could Be Your Personal Assistant With A Personal Assistant
WFME’s You Decide: Play-Doh or Bao
No, That Splinter Isn’t Going To Kill You
Interestingly Enough, This Post Is A Reimagining Of That Post
Gambling For Cherries
If I Was “Absentee-Father Time”
In Hindsight, My Book Isn’t Nearly As Thick As I Thought
I Smell Something, How About You?
I Can No Longer Steal Food From My Hotel Mini-Bar
The Post Where I Demand Comments Only In Haiku Form
No, Please, Don’t Kiss the Cook
The Touch, The Feel of Cotton, The Fabric of Our Lives
Lint vs. Lent: The Truth Revealed!
WFME’s Post As Written By A Mute
If I Knew Law, You’d Be Kind-Of Sorry (Maybe)
I Am Afraid of Little Debbie Snackcakes
The Future of Sausage Shrapnel
That’s (Sort-Of Mildly Kind-Of) Incredible!
I Don’t Think “A Ton” Is As Heavy As They Say
Ed Norton Apparently Hates Me Now
A Bird In The Hand Is Technically Unsanitary
If I Was A Cyborg Who Couldn’t Wear Hip Logo T’s
8-6-7-5-3-0-Ten, The Next Generation
I Am Afraid That This Discoloration on the Carpet Really Isn’t There
If Only That Hands-Free Cell Phone Ear Piece Actually Meant I Was A Shuttle Commander