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.