When I was a kid I considered myself a writer. I was a lover of words. I used to read the dictionary for fun and I’d collect words and hang them around my room, sounding them out until they felt right in my mouth and putting the definition in my own words so that I knew I knew what it meant. Story-craft was my hobby and I’d fill notebooks and binders full of my own characters and observations about my little kid world. I only have a fraction left of what I wrote back then, but I remember it all so vividly and I loved it all. I thought that…
Reflections on A Decade of Inconsistent Blogging
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