The other day I listed several different types of essays with interesting adjectives, some of which intrigued me (not to say baffled). I've been thinking about them and I was planning to do something about them. My power is almost gone (I mean my battery, not my power) but I want to make this a commitment before I shut down..

First: essay noun 1 a short piece of writing on a particular subject.2 formal an attempt or effort: a misjudged essay in job preservation.• a trial design of a postage stamp yet to be accepted. verb 1 formal attempt or try: " Donald essayed a smile." ORIGIN late 15th cent. (as a verb in the sense ‘test the quality of’): alteration of assay, by association with Old French essayer, based on late Latin exagium ‘weighing’, from the base of exigere ‘ascertain, weigh’; the noun (late 16th cent.) is from Old French essai ‘trial’.

Thats all for now, the Blue Jays game is still on, so I'll sign off and plug in. (Put out the light and then put out the light.")

So now it's September 5 and if anyone cares we lost in the 19th inning. AAARGH! Back to the essay(s).

I came across the source of my list of essay types. Its from CWIlLA - Canadian Women in the Literary Arts - with a notice out asking for women (in the literary arts) to contribute some writing, that is, essays, as follows: "Especially encouraged are innovations that seek to revitalise or re-imagine the form of the essay itself; some examples include (without being limited to): the aphoristic essay, the collaborative essay, the dramatic or dialogic essay, the polyphonic essay, the long poem as essay, the meditative essay, the personal essay as witness, the visual essay, " and it goes on to say that they encourage all genres and types of women too. Now that takes some thinking about.

This may take loge than I expected.

aphorism noun a pithy observation which contains a general truth. the old aphorism ‘the child is father to the man’. [ mass noun ] : the debate begins and ends at the level of aphorism, with commentators saying that something must be done.• a concise statement of a scientific principle, typically by a classical author. the opening sentence of the first aphorism of Hippocrates. DERIVATIVE Saphorist noun, aphoristic adjective, aphoristically, adverb, aphorize (also aphorise) verb ORIGIN early 16th cent.: from French aphorisme or late Latin aphorisms, from Greek aphorisms ‘definition’, from aphorizein ‘define’.

This definition makes an aphoristic essay sound as if it wold be a tedious lesson. I don' t write in aphorisms - more like parables. I do stop short of saying, "My point is, and I do have one." Perhaps I should, because people often don't get my point. I remember in one speech I made, I was telling my audience how difficult I found it to make Jello. I actually forget what point I was trying to make, but it wasn't quite as simplistic as the advice I received from a member of the audience after my speech. This woman came up and said, "It helps if you count to sixty," meaning that's how many strokes I should stir Jello. I don't think that was what I was trying to communicate. So maybe scrap the aphoristic essay.

Actually, that is a very useful piece of advice and I have used it a lot, out of context. I'll leave you with it for now.

IT HELPS IF YOU COUNT TO SIXTY.

Sixty-five years ago I sold my very first piece of professional writing to the CBC.

I was 21 years old, with a new degree – an M.A., Double Honours, English and French - and a new title – an M.R.S. – married just 17 days after graduating. I had been an academic, you might even say, a pedant. Now I was determined to be a writer. Schooled as I was in Great Literature, I did not presume to attempt a Great Canadian Novel nor an epic poem. But I loved hanging around words. I just wanted to write.

The problem was, I didn’t know what to write about. I mean, what did I know about Life? I was young, I was female, and I was from Winnipeg, for heaven’s sake. What could I possibly tell anyone they wanted to hear or didn’t already know? What I didn’t know could fill a house, or an apartment - our first home, my husband’s and mine. I was a Bluestocking, not a homemaker, not even close to a homemaker and not much use as a housewife. I knew about Bluestockings, the name of a predominantly female society of bookish people first designated in the 18th century, and very shortly scorned for their lack of practical knowledge or common sense. I didn’t know how to cook. I could boil water but I didn’t know how long it took to boil an egg. Well, as always, when I had to learn something, I turned to books. I went to the library and took out a few cookbooks. I wanted to learn how to roast a chicken and bake bread, pretty basic, pretty simple.

This is necessary information for you to understand the subject of my first sale to the CBC. So far you understand that I couldn’t cook, We had a phone answering machine, in those days called a maid. So I didn’t clean or wash dishes or dust. Well, I did dust but that was during the war and it took me all day when I dusted between reading chapters of whatever book my nose was stuck in. I also made my own bed for five years but I never learned about laundry even during the war. Myy father was a doctor and he inherited from his father, also a doctor, a personal charity. He looked after all the medical needs of an order of nuns who ran an orphanage for little ones and a detention home for young women, in thanks for which they did our washing. I remember him saying “I did a big washing today. We had an outbreak of measles in the home,” or whatever. During the war, I guess someone else looked after the measles and the tonsillectomies (and the births) until my father returned, but they kept on doing our washing. My mother never owned a washing machine.

So there I was, totally inept, with all of life ahead of me, and nothing to write about. Write about what you know, that’s the advice for wannabe writers. I wrote about what I didn’t know. I wrote a piece called “My First Washday.” It sold. I had become a professional writer. Trans-Canada Matinee bought it for a cross-country 15- minute radio talk show presented by the CBC weekday afternoons. I recorded it myself and I received 35 dollars for it. So then I wrote and sold “My First Chicken” and “My First Bread”. I would have gone on but I was facing my first pregnancy.