Tree Rings

I put this website together almost 10 years ago. It's really embarrassing to look back at those first blog posts. Well, to look back at all of it really. I've written hundreds of thousands of words since then. Probably more. My interests have changed. My style has evolved. My knowledge on my expertise has expanded exponentially. 

But that's the thing. If I didn't look back at my old posts, or this weird design, or the intro that might have the most complex sentence structure I've ever seen; then I wouldn't see myself growing as a writer. I'm not saying I'm great right now. I'm still growing and hopefully will never stop. But I'd say I've written a good sentence or two. 

My first reaction is to delete all this. Tear it all down and burn the splinters, but fuck it. What's the point in hiding my garbage. I'll keep them visible and on display. It's like a forest preserve, showing off the cross section of a Red Wood, lacquered and labeled with the date of the moon landing or when a conquistador plowed his way through the middle of this landmass. Maybe someone will read it and learn something from it. Or maybe all I can hope for is it wont actively hurt anyone.

test

It has been a while since I've used this. I should test it out before I do anything.

Writer's Market

Well, I've done it. I've gone down that desperate road as every other potential writer and freelance reporter. I walked into the Borders, asked for the writing section and picked up a copy of this years Writer's Market. It truly is the most depressing spot in the whole store--the writing section. If you want a book about how to write a children's book, it's there. Got a writer and the family and think they might need some pointers on the next great american novel, head over to that corner over there, the one on the other side of the self help section. 

These things are expensive, too. Some publishing company makes a lot of money selling these things to people who probably will never open the damn things. But it's not all bad. Flipping through the thing, I found Mad Magazine. They are 100% freelance, and buy something like 400 damn manuscripts each year. Now I just have to write something funny . . . well damn.