A realization

As I have spent the last few days thinking about this blog, and what I'd like to write about herein, I've come to realize that I'm not the writer that I thought I was.

I write fantasy, sci-fi, historical fiction, and free verse poetry. But I realized today that I don't write anything... real. 

I had a blog for several years. I think I wrote a total of twenty-one posts, but only actually published maybe fifteen. Of those fifteen, I am actually happy with no more than two.

I love to write. Anything and everything, I want to write about it all. What I see, hear, taste, feel, think. I would love to be able to put all my everyday experiences into words on a page.

The only problem is, I'm not good at writing about real things.

With fiction prose, the focus isn't on me. The focus is on the characters, the story, the setting, the mood. On fictional things.

But I don't know how to write my own story. When it comes to writing something 'real', I simply don't know what to say. I suppose I just don't know how to express myself.

I know on an intellectual level what to say. I know all the right things to say.
The formula is there, all the equations calculated correctly. All the pieces are in place.
I should talk about what I saw, what I heard, what I tasted. Talk about how it all made me feel.

This is where I get tripped up. 

I have all the right answers, but it still comes out flat and empty. I don't know how to put myself into my work.

Talking or writing about the way I feel has never been something I've been very good at. 
After all, how am I supposed to express to you what I'm feeling, when I haven't even figured it out for myself yet?

A friend once told me that I am simultaneously one of the most open, and most reserved people he's ever met. It seemed a very odd thing to say, but after considering it a while, I realized that it was completely true. 

I am very open about what I think. I know what I believe, I know why I believe it, and I have facts and evidence to back it up. I enjoy thinking, discussing, debating. I love a mental workout. I love having my beliefs and principles challenged. Picking apart opinions and ideas with logic and reasoning is my idea of fun. I question everything, and then I question my questions. 
I could talk about what I think, know, and believe all day long.

The opposite is true when you ask me how I feel. It's not that I don't want to tell you. Most of the time I simply don't know how I feel.
Perhaps it's that I haven't had time to think about it yet. Maybe I have, and I don't yet know what to make of all the information I've gathered. Or maybe I know what I feel, I just don't know how to say it.

So I'm going to apologize now, reader.

I'm sorry that what I write here may lack the... for want of a better word - impact, that the rest of my prose might have. Fiction is where I'm comfortable. Fiction is where I know what works.

But here? Here, I... I'm a bit out of my element. 

My hope is that, with time and practice, I'll be able to adapt to this new style, and present you with something that's - if not eloquent - at least intelligible.   

An introduction... kind of...

I've never been very good at introducing myself, so I'm not even going to bother doing so here.

Besides, chances are that if you're reading this, you're probably related to me. I don't expect this blog to reach internet fame much beyond my rather small circle of family and friends.

So forget the introduction. 


What can you expect to see here? The title should have told you. This blog will have several functions.

- First, simply as a place for me to jot down my thoughts; a catalog of musings, observations, and opinions from yours truly.

- Second, it will act as a sort of literary scrapbook. A record of my life's adventures - whether those be simple day-to-day activities, or more ambitious outings like the month long road trip I'm planning for this summer (more on that sometime later).

- And lastly, this blog is my journal: a battered and water stained notebook with wrinkled and dogeared pages yellowed with age. At least, that's what I imagine it would look like were it a physical thing. It would also likely be filled with illegible chicken scratch. As such, let us all take a moment to be thankful for the wonder of digital media and it's blessed uniformity. 


So welcome. Welcome to a collection of scattered writings on a variety of topics so broad, I don't dare try and list or define them all here. I guess we'll just have to discover them as they come.