I used to want to be a writer. My high school notebooks were full of vignettes, ideas, crappy poetry, and short stories. When I went to college, I tried for the creative writing department, but couldn’t get in. (OK, I didn’t try very hard, because I was never that MOTIVATED a writer. My notebooks were full because I had to write SOMETHING for class.) Also, a lot of what I wrote was pretty trite crap without much in the way of deeper meaning.
Sitting in my apartment, preparing to go to Togo, I’m very happy with the fact that I’m not a professional writer. My romantic notions of being a starving artist are long gone. However, every now and then, I get the bug to try to write SOMETHING. Or I get other people pushing me to write, especially the stories from my family.
So, I’m going to occasionally publish stuff like this here. Some will be fiction (perhaps fantasy and sci-fi, two old loves of mine). Some will be “semi-fiction” or “mostly fiction”, meaning stories from my family, based on real events, but fictionalized. In particular, names will be changed and no effort will be made to search out the truth of the story; it’s just a story. Lastly, there might be some memoir type stuff talking about my own life.
I mean, I figure if I’m going to be narcissistic enough to blog, might as well go all out, right?