This Week's Project . . .

. . . is to lay out a four-page newsletter, for which I have, in the way of material, one rambling essay on the many delightful activities of one out of 20 clubs, which must be condensed down to bullets; one bullet-point list on the features of the state convention, which must be expanded into a feature story; one very brief feature on Ohio's tax climate, which I wrote myself; and an oddly-designed picture of an elephant that I hope will pass muster as a logo.

No responses yet to emails requesting info/articles from people who are supposed to be supplying them. Can't get the printer to work.

I forget just how hard this is. Not the editing and design hassles so much as just plain writing. How hard can it be to come up with three paragraphs paraphrasing a tax study? To write a brief update on what a club is doing? Maybe I'm just frustrated with the mundaneness of the material. It's not the Great American Novel, it's just a club newsletter.

On the other hand, material shouldn't dictate all the limits. Maybe Julia Childs couldn't come up with the greatest of gourmet dinners with ingredients in my kitchen (sorry, no wine for the sauce), but what she cooked would still be well done. It might be macaroni and cheese, but the noodles would be cooked to the perfect tenderness and the cheese sauce would have no lumps.

If I'm writing macaroni and cheese, I want it to be good macaroni and cheese. I suppose that means I just need to go stir the sauce harder, instead of bemoaning the lack of gruyere.