Ramping Up

I am writ­ing again.

Actu­al­ly, I have put more words on paper in the past nine weeks than I had in the pre­vi­ous nine years, or at least it feels that way. I give almost all of the cred­it for this burst of pen-push­ing to the MFA writ­ing work­shop that I am priv­i­leged to be a part of this semes­ter. No, I have not start­ed up in a grad pro­gram with­out telling any­one; I am a non-degree stu­dent, shelling out some cash in an attempt to jump-start his cre­ative mech­a­nisms. It has worked. It is clear tome that I am rusty, and have a lot of work to do yet on my craft. But it is abun­dant­ly clear that I am no longer the same writer that slathered on his prose with a trow­el in the pages of The Float­ing Egg, or even the same writer who start­ed this blog. I have, believe it or not, matured in the past few years, and I am sud­den­ly dis­cov­er­ing this fact upon the page.

Of course, my life has not been emp­ty, either. But some new hard­ware has e think­ing that blog­ging may be more invit­ing an activ­i­ty than pre­vi­ous­ly here, so I hope this address may become a link worth click­ing — and book­mark­ing — once again.