I’ve always enjoyed writing enormously, and am a prolific writer. Unfortunately, almost all my writing starts and ends in my head. I write furious letters to editors, radio hosts, my daughters’ teachers, people who cut me off, and rude shop staff. I write chatty letters to my parents, brothers, and friends, calm and rational letters to my clients, and I write love letters to my husband. But these beautifully crafted epistles wither and die before they are ever committed to paper or keyboard.
I don’t think many proper writers would think of this as writing at all. Any old fool can rant away in their head: it takes actual skill and commitment to produce a good letter, a well written story, or, to really reach for the stars, a whole book.
So, I’ll take the upcoming relocation of my family to another city, and the consequent need to keep assorted family and friends updated on our progress, to get some of this voluminous thought into a blog. Then at least I’ll know its not all in my head.
