I’ve found an interesting thing about writing. The more I do it, the more I want to do it. I’m pretty sure there some chemical reaction in the brain governing this sort of thing, but it feels damned good to see the written word fill up a piece of paper that doesn’t have anything to do with a quarterly report, status update, or policy memo. Since every action has an equal and opposite reaction, I’m finding that the problem is that there always seems like there’s more to say than there is time to say it. Let’s just say that this is leading to some good stuff, but also some bleary eyed mornings.

Someone asked me not long ago what I do for fun. This is apparently it. Some people spend their free time building models or playing kickball, baking, or candlestick making. It seems that for now, this is going to be my most time consuming hobby. It keeps me off the streets and I can do it without needing to go out and deal with large groups of people, so maybe this is exactly what I’ve been looking for after all. Some of you extroverts will scoff and say it’s not a real hobby, but remember to be nice or I’ll blog about you. And no one wants that.

Interestingly, the more I write, the more I read; which strikes me as a strange circumstance since both are inherently time consuming activities in their own right. It’s possible that this is a passing interest, but five years of active blogging, and a new found interest in e-publishing would point to something different. Maybe I will lose interest at some point, but for now I’ll write like the wind because you never know when you’ll get hit broadside by an insufferable case of writer’s block.