My blog

 I don’t keep a diary. Neither do I make entries in a journal. But I’ve been writing as long as I can remember. It’s part of me.

I don’t consider myself a gifted writer by any means. What I am is a guy who has a lot of friends who are sensitive and generous enough to ignore the occasional tortured analogy in favor of letting the idea come through.

I don’t understand how anyone could fail to enjoy writing. I know it’s not everyone’s cup of tea and there are people I love and respect who consider writing a 500-word essay nothing short of torture. I understand that they feel this way but I just can’t fathom why.

I write letters to my daughters that they will read when the time comes. I’ve written a full-length novel that went precisely nowhere, bad poetry and some really good essays. I’ve had regular columns in two tiny-market newspapers. But so far, this blog is my favorite outlet.

I’ve gone on at length about family and I can’t help that I’ll likely continue to use my loved ones as blog fodder. But I also feel like turning a corner, stretching the wings a bit. There’s a book I’m reading about Henrietta Lacks that’s started the wheels turning. I’ve been thinking about a few “colorful characters” of my acquaintance that might make for a good missive or two.

I’d like to go back through some of the notes we wrote during the Ball Of Twine Tour. And I have innumerable scraps of paper – physical and virtual – bearing lists of writing ideas. I can’t wait to take some of them on.

What it comes down to is this: I know there are lots of demands on your time. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you trusting me with a little corner of it now and again. Perhaps you could even recommend my musings to some of your friends.

There’s no question that I need you more than you need me. I hope to earn your generosity.