I miss old-school blogging so here I am again.

There’s no point in me rehashing this in detail so I’ll keep it brief:

I’ve been writing on the Internet for as long as the Internet has existed, but due to my imposter syndrome, I have deleted all of those blogs and stories except the ones I still have on Medium.

I don’t need to learn anything from anyone when I am reading blogs online, and I don’t feel like this is the place where I am going to bring readers to teach them something I barely know.

I barely know anything, so how could I, anyway?

But here’s the thing.

I am very excited about starting a new story – literally and metaphorically, but particularly a new, long, fiction project, and if I am going to try that again, I am going to need someone or someplace to complain to about how hard it is to write a book.

Then, I need to whine and cry and be supported when I get to the hardest part – editing a book well enough to think that it will sell.

I hope I don’t bother anyone.

I may post a little, I may post a lot.

I’ve found myself crushing on Bluesky lately and I want to be one of those people who get to say:

“I finished my first draft today!”

So, I suppose I should figure out what the hell I want to write about at all.

I promise you no “good” content.

There will probably not be any “good” essays unless there are ones I crosspost on Medium.

But there will be me, dumping my brain.

This is your warning that you should not follow me unless you are interested in the writer’s journeys of people who barely make time to write fiction in the first place.

The not-Writers.

The not-writing writers.

I don’t want to be one of those people anymore, so wish me luck.

Photo by Suzy Hazelwood

delay

It’s been nearly 
five years 
and I’ve grown 
weary 
waiting for you, 
but you said 
the end is near, 
the delay
almost over, 
so in a few days 
I’ll be making room 
on a particular finger. 
I’ll be as ready 
as I’ve been 
for nearly five years. 
There’s nothing I want 
more than us.

Photo by JUDY ANN DAYOT on Unsplash

skerry

People think 
I’m only joking 
when I say
I want to run away 
to a tropical island 
where no one can find me — 
but with my luck, 
I’ll get nothing more 
than a skerry
to cling to, 
and the waves will 
keep pounding me 
either way. 
Still, having the chance, 
I’d go.

Photo by Geoffrey Moffett on Unsplash

rain

For months we’ve 
prayed for rain, 
heeding burn bans, 
losing the chance this year 
to sit around fire pits 
shooting shit with friends, 
watching stars fall, 
pretending this is fine, 
and we’ll live to see 
a better world 
before we’re gone.

Photo by Kittitep Khotchalee on Unsplash

trolls

Consider for a moment
the unhoused among us.
They’re not trolls
lurking under bridges.
They’re people who,
more often than not,
had a bout of bad luck
they couldn’t overcome.
It’s hardly ever a fault
of their own, and
they deserve more than we give.

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