The chances of you needing yet another random person in your feed is, likely, extremely low.

And that’s fine. Hell, I don’t read blogs much either. They’re usually written by tortured artists, clout chasers, copywriting interns, confused thought leaders, or even worse than all of them, politicians.

And yet here I am, probably one of those dreadful people, typing words into a digital box, hoping you’ll read them.

I am late to the party. My business case is slim to none. I have nothing to sell you. I have no products in the pipeline. I have no album to hype. I have no gallery exhibition to pitch. I have no startup to flog.

There is no actual reason for this blog to exist, save for one:

I want to get into the habit of writing.

This blog is, maybe, a way for me to reach out and build an audience in a lazy and forgetful way. What sort of an audience? You tell me. You’re the one reading.

I’m a guy, living in the Midwest. I am in my early 40s. I am married, I have cats. I have a job, one that I rather enjoy. I almost died at least once. I have stumbled through a half a dozen industries, and somehow never managed to use my college degree in any of them. I have too many hobbies. I am easily distracted. I find almost everything interesting. I read widely, although not as much as I’d like.

I also enjoy creating. I love the alchemy of food. I have been doing photography for the better part of ten years, mostly portrait work. I can code. I can produce (bad) music. And here, in the now, I am trying to get decent at writing.

It’s something that’s been gnawing at my bones the last few years; I was never good at journaling, even though I thoroughly enjoy the physical sensation of pen to paper (my handwriting, on the other hand, has always looked like a shaky addict writing a ranson note). But I like having thoughts and trying to be clever in writing them down. Fortunately I spent my formative years Very Online, thanks to USENET, IRC, ICQ, and video game lobbies. The written word is my natural form of communication. Unfortunately, spending my angsty teenage years Very Online in those same spaces has turned me into a combative, sarcastic jerkass when writing for personal projects.

Being somewhat mindful of future job prospects, I have always stopped short of publishing anything under my actual name because of that very predilection.

That said, I don’t think I come here with an axe to grind. But I am getting old. I am in the back half of my life, statistically speaking. And I want to spend some of that back half writing. Even if only a dozen people read it, I want to write. I have a need to flex my creative muscles which have been withering on the vine (messy combined metaphors, sorry) since the pandemic, and writing is part of that.

So, this is part practice, part midlife crisis, part new year resolution (hey, look what day it is!)

Things you may expect from this blog:

Anyway, if you made it down this far, you may be interested in subscribing. Allegedly, Write.As pumps these posts out into the fediverse automatically, something which I will be keeping tabs on. Isn't technology neato?

Anyways, hello. And goodbye for now. Stay chill.