My first post. I’m blinded by my own tears.

How many blogs have I started and let fall by the wayside, too timid or busy or not seeing the worth in blogging into the void? Now I start again, with renewed hope that I will find the rhythm and inspiration to continue. With my partner Ashley and my dog, an 11-month old Dachshund named Herman, my life is clear of the clutter and demands that have forever interrupted me. No more teaching, no more grading essays – good riddance to the grading. I’ll miss the students but not the grading. My time is my own to read and write.

I still work, of course – have to pay the rent and feed myself, but my needs are few and the distractions are gone.

I’m approaching the anniversary start date of my latest foray into writing – a memoir started October 31, 2018. About 250 draft pages in, I’m encouraged by my progress and ready for complete the task. With some luck, I estimate another 6 months to complete a full draft.

Words and writing ideas sneak up and tap me on the shoulder throughout the day. I’m surrounded by books as I work in Sterling Memorial Library at Yale University, a place of grand design meant to inspire and enlighten. But now is the time to set it all down in writing.

As an academic, I’m used to writing and contemplating language. But I have dealt in finished products, not drafts. Blogging requires a voice I haven’t discovered yet. Time to set aside notions of perfection and completion. Process and perseverance must win out against all other concerns and against all odds.

Stories and titles bubble to the surface. Poems coalesce, spilling out almost daily, spreading like ornate ice crystals glittering in the late afternoon winter sun. I read daily with an eye to write.

So, a word, please…. if you will. I have stories to tell. Enjoy.