Getting the hang of it. Finally.

I’m going to try my hand at writing things down. I’m a writer, or so claim time and time again, hell, it’s what I spent four (and a half, dougggghhhh) years doing in college, so should have been writing all along. Life has gotten in the way. This is an excuse spewed out each time anyone’s asked, “what have you written lately?” Nothing. That’s what my true response should be. It would be the honest thing to say. But, that never crosses my lips. What I do say, to try and pacify the curious bystanders who want nothing more than to see I’ve not been wasting my words, well, I explain, with intricate detail, that I have in fact had no time, constantly on the move, packing my bags, out the door, dressing for the evening, day, week, next location. I’ve never been called out on it, except by the few other writers I’ve had the pleasure of collecting in my menagerie of friends. They call it like they see it, letting the air out of my over inflated tires. Busy shouldn’t be an excuse, but should feed the story and add to the inventory. I am (hopefully) done with the dishing of excuses. Writers write, right? So, I’m going to try and do just that. For myself, for the masses, for no one. And yes, I’m going to bug the crap out of you all to read it. So, you have that to look forward to. Look at me, here I am. Writing. Nothing. But, hey, it’s my first try at an organized collaborative. Give me a break.