Am I a writer?
That’s a good question.
I certainly sit at the computer and type words into sentences on the screen.
But does that make me a writer?
I have a friend who is a published poet.
She writes amazing things that make me catch my breath and pause a moment in awareness that she has struck some significant sympathetic chord in me.
What do I write?
Blurbs about my life, dating, and the adventures that my life brings to me.
Occasionally, I SHOUT.
I’ve never really thought of myself as a writer.
Except that I am.
There’s more truth on the pages of unblunder than there is in the pages of an encyclopedia.
And occasionally there’s more depth – as evidenced by me admitting to experimenting with fringe sexual practices and chronicling my (mis) adventures, especially in dating.
Someday I may write a book.
But right now, I’m going to focus on this blog which is a guilty pleasure for many.
I’m trying to make sense of this world and my place in it.
Heaven knows I don’t have all the answers.