“So, I guess I need to start a blog?” I asked my critique group friends.

They looked at me with ‘duh’ expressions, nodding like bobble-heads.

I have to confess. The thought of adding anything to my already bulging schedule overwhelmed me at first, but now I’m getting excited about it–realizing it’s not going to be a chore, but an adventure.

I’ve always liked words. The sound, the meaning, the root, the history, the definitions.

Some of my favorite words are strung together in  books such as Wuthering Heights, Jane Eyre, Pride and Prejudice, Sense and Sensibilities, This Present Darkness, and the list goes on.

My love for writing started when my age was a single digit. In fact, writing anything has been a passion of mine since I could print letters. I remember composing a ‘letter’ for my Grams at the age of four by roaming through the house copying words I’d see: Magnavox, Whirlpool, Sears, Wishbook, etc. It must’ve been one of the most profound letters she ever received.

In my elementary school days I did crazy things like use ALL of my spelling words in an extra credit assignment…just for fun. No one else did this, and that baffled me. Didn’t everyone love writing as much as I did?

In my pre-teen years I filled notebooks with dramatic short stories that I’d make my best friend read. That’s true friendship. In fact, she’s still my friend–some thirty years later–and she’s still reading my stories! And hopefully enjoying them more than my notebook stories.

Proof of my love for writing from these early years is evidenced today by the enormous callous on my finger where I grasp my pen. Thank goodness for laptops and AlphaSmarts. Who knows what my finger would look like without them?

The point being: I love words. So that is what I do. I write words.

Happy birthday to my blog!