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It's easy to see why I've learned to become verbose. The offending post was short, just a couple of lines, written out with a smile on my face. I'd hoped to suggest the same sort of wry humour I was feeling as I wrote it. It seems some additional explanation may have been necessary.
I was remembering sitting down to my father's huge old typewriter and trying, in my slow two-fingered typing of the time (I didn't touch-type back then), to type out my latest piece of poetry - and usually having to take several goes to get a reasonably clean copy. I then tried to imagine that same slow-typist version of me sitting down at that same old typewriter with my latest 200,000 word novel. It struck me as quite funny - the faces I might have pulled just looking at how much I had to do. BUT you will notice that my memory and imagination were both considering the typing out of an already written piece - at no time did I consider the relative difficulty of the original creation of what I was typing out.
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