Well well well.

 Hmmm.  I haven’t.  A long silence, forgotten really.  Not much to say about it.  I tend to overthink it.  Discarding ideas because I am waiting for some seminal moment.  An event that changes everything.  Like winning the lottery.  Walk into a store put down your greenback and walk out with another piece of paper that can be worthless or worth it.  It can happen but most likely it never will.  What does happen is what life is made up of.  Being.  Owning it.  Focus.  Writing the next great story.  Funny how I wanted to be a writer when I was a teenager.  I started writing poetry shortly after my father’s death.  Literature was my favorite.  Reading it in High School English class was something I was engaged with.  I loved it.  Wanted to write like the authors we studied. Now, all these decades removed from that I am still frozen in my tracks.  The desire can grow cold like coffee sitting in a half forgotten cup on the side table by a favorite chair.  Why is that?  I think it is because I went about in the wrong way.  Instead of expecting “the greatest idea to appear out of nothing”  I should have started  writing and never stop.  You see.  I am a writer.  It is what a person does and by extension what they are.  If I don’t write then I am not a writer.  Well,well,well!