I run the back of a finger through my armpit, wiping perspiration onto a knuckle. One of our contributors has just sent me an email to say that he is "flat out and won't be able to meet the deadline". I will write back to him, begging for something shorter than what he promised. There was a friend who had expressed mild interest at a party on Saturday night who I will have to approach. I have yet to confirm the receipt of submissions from two others who I thought would surely contribute. I have ten sprawling paragraphs of prose to craft into a coherent argument for my own submission. I know my co-editor Ezy is sitting in front of the screen, down a hill, across the settling harbour and up another hill. Not too far away at all. I call for some advice. His phone is engaged as usual.

I am reminded of our last official Editorial meeting more than a week ago by eight Action Points written in blue ink on a piece of blank paper that leans casually against my printer. The last point reads, "Invent Pepper Smasher". A discussion of the merits and shortcomings of conventional pepper grinders had led to the consensus that pepper should be smashed and not ground for the most enticing flavour. It was decided that the added vigour of the smashing action would release more flavour. It is also a possibility that the violence of the act might add to the sense of occasion, especially in a crowded restaurant. The discussion climaxed with the furious drafting of Pepper Smashing Concepts, then more detailed sketches. The final design we agreed upon will hopefully revolutionise the Pepper Milling industry. Yet perfect seasoning is little consolation for two ordinary guys trying to launch a website running on the generous efforts of friends and acquaintances. This meeting was supposed to sort out the launch party venue and costs, images, cartoons & photos, a catchy slogan, and initial publicity strategy. The other action points only confirm that all these things are still on the agenda.

I'm anxious. It is easy to promise a lot after a few beers in a bar or backyard barbecue, but substantially harder to deliver. The following conversation with fictional character Jim, happens after the usual social routine in its course has brought about uncomfortable silence.

"So Jim, have I mentioned the website that Ezy and I are setting up?"

"No"

"Well, it's called The Cud."

"The Cun..."

"No C-U-D. The Cud –as in cow chewing. It's a website dedicated to publishing interesting commentary and opinion articles on a range of different topics. We are looking for submissions now if you've ever fancied yourself as a writer."

"That sounds really interesting. I'd love to contribute. When are you launching?"

"July, August, September, October, November (all have been used as answers). I'll send you an email on Monday."

After countless conversations of this nature, I have concluded that many of us do want to write and share our thoughts on life, but are not willing to risk higher paying careers in other industries to become full-time writers or journalists. I have also encountered many disillusioned with the conventional media. The Cud is an opportunity for interesting people, like those I have met over recent months to exchange interesting ideas and views on life. We have not restricted submissions by issuing strict criteria for The Cud, there is no political agenda or theme. To impose such things at an early stage might restrict the creation of something we never imagined. Please read "The Loaded Dog" and you'll see what I mean.

Many have asked me, "Who is your audience?" or "Who is The Cud targeted at?" Why? Must everything have to be directed or positioned with a certain someone in mind? This is a notion that bores me to tears. But to those of you that insist on asking such questions I reply, "The Interesting, and Interested". If only boring people get bored, then it's logical that the opposite should be true.

So stay interested and we'll endeavour to keep things interesting, and well seasoned.