I’m a writer, and despite the fact that I’ve never actually had anything published, I’ll stick to that claim. I have never really wanted to do anything else with my life, nor can I imagine that there is anything else of which I would be suitably capable. It’s how I’ve always identified myself. It’s simply who I am.
“Ah,” you say, “you’re an aspiring writer.”
No. I don’t mean that’s not the right word; I mean it’s the wrong implication. I tried using that term, and I tired rather quickly of the pitying “of course you are, dear” look it garners from others. I’m not the sort who intends to slap something together “someday”. I’m not waiting for a masterpiece to drop from the sky. I am a firm believer in the concept that writing requires just as much persistence, study, and sheer hard work as any other art form. Someday only comes when you drag it screaming toward you.
This, then, is something of a captain’s log. I go questing for someday, searching for a story within myself that will not manifest itself complete, flawless, and shining when the time is right but rather be hammered into existence word by word, and I invite you to join me. What I say may not always be entertaining, relevant, or coherent, but it will be…well, it’ll be there.