We have come to the end of another month so I thought now would be as good a time as any to go on a written journey back through the days of June.

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There have been many innovations in communication throughout history.

From the pigeon to the Pony Express, from the telegraph to the telephone and beyond, all of these advances were made to better connect people to each other.

Today, there are more ways to communicate than ever before.

Messages can be sent and received in the blink of an eye.

When I saw Sue’s prompt for today, which is “connect,” my first thought was we live in a time when it is easier to communicate with more people than it has ever been, but all it takes is a look at current events to see we aren’t connected.

Then I thought about things from a more positive point of view.

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It is a challenge to write every day,

I haven’t been able to write every day, or just didn’t want to, for much of my writing life.

Then, in the middle of a coronavirus quarantine when routines were forced to change and the world no longer spun quite so fast, WordPress Discover brought back daily prompts.

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When I was a kid, I hit a phase when I wanted a pen pal.

Maybe I was intrigued with the possibility of communication with a person somewhere in the wide world beyond the limits of the map dot I call home.

I was still young enough to get mail sent by someone who didn’t want my money so maybe it was the childish thrill of a letter addressed to me and hidden, like a surprise, in the mailbox.

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This is it.

With this post, I have written something every day for the last month.

I am grateful to WordPress Discover for these prompts, which is great because today’s WordPress Discover prompt is “grateful.”

Sometimes, things just work out well.

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A notebook is a type of article full of notes about different topics or extra information for which a reporter couldn’t find a place in a story.

Since today’s WordPress Discover prompt is “note,” I thought I’d jot down some random ones.

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I wish I could think of a better idea for this post.

The last thing I was surprised by isn’t my story to tell.

I don’t feel like I should give a review on the three books I’m reading since I haven’t finished any of them yet.

My story about the time I slept on the Couch of Death has been posted for years. The last time was almost a repeat of the same story, and I didn’t know if a repost is against Writer’s Workshop rules.

I have not posted a picture to Instagram this month. The one photo I posted in April was an old one, and I have not tackled any spring cleaning.

Like I said, I wish I could think of a better idea for this post.

Maybe next time.

Mama’s Losin’ It

There is something in journalism called the can.

No, not the toilet.

It’s the place, in my experience most likely some sort of file or desktop folder, where writers keep stories they’ve decided to save for a slow news day.

I toiled seven years in print journalism, and there were a lot of days I just didn’t want to write or wondered whether there would be enough words to write to fill the paper.

One of the things I learned early in my journalism career was if I would like to receive a paycheck, the paper must be filled.

My bosses never liked my suggestion we fill it with crossword puzzles so the can saved my butt more than once.

I feel like now is a good time to tell you I have no idea where I’m going with this, and the time it takes you to read these words will be time you’ll never get back.

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