This blog is very old. It began when my wife was hospitalized, close to death, hospitalized after emergency surgery to remove flesh-eating bacteria and the dead tissue surrounding it. Each day, I'd spend what time I could with her (while managing two hours a day on the road, commuting to my job--I was a lot younger then). When I could no longer stay, I returned to our empty house, slept, and first thing in he morning went to visit her before I had to leave for my job. I was desperate for sleep, but it didn't come easy. When I closed my eyes I'd see her. My imagination kept coming up with horrible, painful ways for her to die, and there was nothing I could do to help her but to stay with her and try to project a confidence I didn't feel. We were new in town, disconnected from family and friends. I'd never felt so powerless and alone.
This blog was a combination of journal, distraction, and message-in-a-bottle. It was a way to keep myself occupied until I could calm down enough to get some sleep.
She recovered, slowly. It's years later, and she's more healthy (and more beautiful) than the day I met her. And this blog changed, too. Sometimes it was a place to think things through. Sometimes it was a place to vent my frustrations. Sometimes it was a place to note current events, and provide some commentary. Often it was simply untouched.
I haven't written here for a while. I'm not shutting this down: it's a unique record, and it remains a place for all those varied missions. But one thing I've learned, especially since my retirement, is I'm a "writer." Not just an author--I've been published before, as part of my job, as required by the games of tenure and consulting. Not for money, although I'll be happy to get a few bucks out of my hobby. Not even a journalist, or a blogger. I'm a writer because I have to write. I have to express who I am and what I think and the tell the stories I alone can tell. There's a novel started, and another growing in the back of my mind. In the meantime I'm publishing in places like Medium in the hopes of meeting new people and sparking some intelligent conversations. I'm surprised to learn I can enjoy writing. It's still work, of course, but it's not a job because it's what I want to do. I'm free to do things my way. It's a little scary to not be driven by someone else's expectations. At first, I worried that without the external direction I'd slow down and vegetate, joining the scores of people staring at the television or some other distraction. But I haven't, and I won't. I'm going to keep writing, and see where it leads me.
If you're curious about where this goes, I'll probably post about it here from time to time. And you you can probably find me in places like Medium. I hope you'll check in here, and there, once in a while. I hope you'll notice if and when my first novel is published. I think--I feel--this is going to be interesting.
This blog was a combination of journal, distraction, and message-in-a-bottle. It was a way to keep myself occupied until I could calm down enough to get some sleep.
She recovered, slowly. It's years later, and she's more healthy (and more beautiful) than the day I met her. And this blog changed, too. Sometimes it was a place to think things through. Sometimes it was a place to vent my frustrations. Sometimes it was a place to note current events, and provide some commentary. Often it was simply untouched.
I haven't written here for a while. I'm not shutting this down: it's a unique record, and it remains a place for all those varied missions. But one thing I've learned, especially since my retirement, is I'm a "writer." Not just an author--I've been published before, as part of my job, as required by the games of tenure and consulting. Not for money, although I'll be happy to get a few bucks out of my hobby. Not even a journalist, or a blogger. I'm a writer because I have to write. I have to express who I am and what I think and the tell the stories I alone can tell. There's a novel started, and another growing in the back of my mind. In the meantime I'm publishing in places like Medium in the hopes of meeting new people and sparking some intelligent conversations. I'm surprised to learn I can enjoy writing. It's still work, of course, but it's not a job because it's what I want to do. I'm free to do things my way. It's a little scary to not be driven by someone else's expectations. At first, I worried that without the external direction I'd slow down and vegetate, joining the scores of people staring at the television or some other distraction. But I haven't, and I won't. I'm going to keep writing, and see where it leads me.
If you're curious about where this goes, I'll probably post about it here from time to time. And you you can probably find me in places like Medium. I hope you'll check in here, and there, once in a while. I hope you'll notice if and when my first novel is published. I think--I feel--this is going to be interesting.
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