Hello, my friends. I hope you’re well. This is the point where I should say that I’ve missed you, but I really can’t.
Now that I’m really a writer–despite how much I’m paid for my efforts–rather than a dude who writes, writing for me is much different than it used to be. The need to write is so much less than it used to be.
Before, not writing meant failure. I took it emotionally and psychologically as failure because that’s essentially what it was; not writing was typically founded in hangovers and depression, and, being that writing was how I defined myself, not writing meant that my self-definition was poor. That, of course, led to lessened of self-worth.
These days, I do not define myself as a writer. I am a writer, but before that, I’m a husband, a father, a man who works for a living to support a family, and the manager of a household. Then, I’m a writer. So being, sometimes I’m more successful when I’m not writing, which is been the situation of late.
The guy who wears those hats is now pretty buttoned-down with all those concerns, and I can come back here. You can expect to see activity pick up here in the coming weeks, even with the Christmas holidays. This pleases me, because I have much to tell you. So, yes, while I can’t say that I’ve missed you, it certainly is good to see you back here. I hope to see you back here again sometime soon.
Thanks always, my friends. Warm thoughts and prayers from up on the mountain.