This blog you’ve found yourself peering upon in many ways represents something that’s been long overdue.

Now you might say the owner of a newly minted WordPress page does not a writer make, and for the most part I would wholeheartedly concur. But this outlet is allowing me to do something I haven’t yet done, and that is expose others to my manipulations of the blank page. Writer’s write, and that’s what makes them writers. Until now my scribblings have remained shut inside composition books and spirals, only to be read by the same pair of daydreaming eyes time and again. I suppose I should thank my lucky stars I live in an age any moderately educated hack can vomit his ramblings out on a web page for the world to read. What a fascinating modern world we live in…

I struggled at length with the notion of whether or not to attach my true blue Christian name to these postings in lieu of a sensible pseudonym. I elected the former ultimately because I feel it may force me to come out a bit to the world. I think if you surveyed my close friends and acquaintances you might find that those folks find me a non-confrontational crowd-pleaser. I don’t generally do things like talk politics. In fact, I’d say more often than not I hold my true feelings about things close to the vest. I like this reputation and I hope it’s accurate, but it really only tells half my story. There are things I’m crazy passionate and scary opinionated about, and I think it high time those sides of me rear their pretty little heads. Or perhaps people already know me as this, in which case it would be unseemly to attempt to dupe them with some cloak of faux anonymity.

I promise that these postings will contain the forthright and honest opinions tumbling around in my noggin, with one caveat: I can only write what I feel at a given time. In twenty years I may feel cataclysmically different about some things, and you should forgive me for that if (and when) the time comes. After all, I’m just a writer writing.

Don’t worry. There’s going to be some fun stuff, too, perhaps to the detriment of writer and reader. I think Jack was speaking for himself and for me when he rambled, “My fault, my failure, is not in the passions I have, but in my lack of control of them.”

So come one, come all inside the head of one of the best writers you’ve never heard of. And do your worst. I can take it.

Oh and while you’re here, help me with this: