“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”

I have been bleeding a lot. I very near hemorrhaged and had several transfusions.

Obsessive line editing. Deleting. Tightening. Harvesting ripe words and squeezing until they stain the page.

I’m not sure what this space is to become. I feel a shift has occurred for the moment. For a long time this place was my only outlet for writing. When I was feeling dried up, I’d come here and try to bleed a few drops.

Perhaps this will become more miscellaneous, although it’s always somewhat been that way. Or it may lie fallow until I once again hit a wall. For it’s inevitable that I will. But I’m hoping that won’t be for a while.