Sounds like I should be standing up in front of a room full of people, confessing my vice or addiction. As if I should be announcing my one month sober anniversary, eliciting a round of applause and a pat on the back from my fellow addicts. Sometimes I feel like I need a twelve step program, other times I want nothing more than the taste on my tongue, the feel in my lungs, and the burning in my veins of a well written passage of good fiction. Ah, that’s the stuff.

But the way I see it, in this social media dependent day-and-age we are all writers, in our own way. Facebook, something even multimillion dollar companies with about as much personality as a toothpick have, allows you to post just about whatever you like for all your “friends” to see. We post about going to work in the snow and hating every moment, we rant online about politics, religion, and rights, and we diss and praise and point fingers, all in our own words, in our own way.

I love words, single words, whole sentences, passages and poems, lyrics and prose, all words. I love to read them (“Peace” by Henry Van Dyke is a favorite poem), I love to speak them, though I’ve not got the prettiest voice, I love to hear them, especially when they’re ridiculous words, but just so long as they’re not on the short “Words I Despise” list. But most importantly, especially for this blog, I love to write them! Few things give me more pleasure than writing a good bit of fiction (non-fiction tickles my fancy, too). It must feel good, sound good in my head and out, and here’s a big secret, if I’m really happy after writing a good bit, I smile. Alone or in a crowded place, I smile, broadly. And done tell, but the really really good stuff, I get a little teary eyed.

And so, welcome to my blog. Here I shall feed my addiction with unhealthy doses of words in any form I can manage.

Thanks for reading,
-C