A few months ago, I went to the bookstore and bought a journal. I knew I would like this journal, because I'd bought one just like it in a different color a year prior and used it for random thoughts and ideas and venting about life and writing. Then I was struck one day with the idea of carrying around a journal especially for the writing project on which I've been working for the last four years. I took it straight to the library, sat down at a table in front of a large, glass window…

I'm not trying to disagree with the famous line from Forrest Gump. In the context he's using the phrase, I'm in agreement. Recently, I've been doubting my story because of its seriousness. I think on the characters and their situations and realize that their lives are not delectable. There's a lot of pain, little humor, and an undying need to figure things out. Part of me is scared of writing this story because I fear people won't like the lack of humor. But then I realize that it is just…

I’ve realized, as I’ve forged a new path with this blog, something that I’m failing miserably at that I’d like to be doing better. You know those pictures that are circulating where there’s a title, say “Bloggers,” that’s followed by six pictures with headlines of: This is What My Friends Think I Do, This is What My Parents Think I Do, This is What I Think I’m Doing, This is What I’m Actually Doing, and so forth? Well, I could put together a series of pictures of myself that portray what I…

I just finished writing up a post about writers keeping journals that's going up tomorrow on my blog. I've kept a journal consistently since my freshman year of college, but have suffered a decline in writer-journal intimacy since then. Journaling used to be so special and fulfilling to me, because I was writing, and I was being a writer without trying to be one, which is the opposite of what I'm doing now. I'm an advocate of writers using journals, because I think it helps grow our brain -…