I took a tiny break from posting, thinking that I needed some relaxation/vacation time to recharge my writing muscles. It felt like I was skipping on brushing my teeth. I have been playing around with a writer’s identity for a while now. Trying on the archetypal clothes of what I think a writer is, what they do, how they think. I realize now that anyone who is literate is a writer. Everyone has a story. I crave these remarkable tales. I am curious about who people are and where they have been, even more, where they are going.
I am a writer. It fulfills a need within me to connect and express. I can document my experiences and perspective. I now know that if I crave the stories of others, the. Others crave my stories.
