It seems time I get back to writing again. I'm still dealing with a bit of writer's block - something I can't decide was caused by the death of my mother or by the level of responsibility I was dealing with at my last job. Possibly it was because I wasn't where I really wanted to be (geographically)? I may never know. I've left that job (such a hard thing to do; I truly enjoyed my time there and have the most incredible group of friends who saw me off), I've moved across this enormous country of ours, I'm daily dealing with how to come to terms with my mother's death, and I really want to find my voice again.
I can still write technical and educational content. I can write for years about topics that aren't necessarily personal to me. I can break down even the most complex subjects and write them in a way that anyone can understand. But writing about myself? That's where the block is.
I don't know if I'll keep up with this, but what kind of writer would I be if I didn't try and fail?
Here's to a new beginning, the risk of not knowing what will come next, to being homeless and jobless in a new city, to misplaced commas, to fragment sentences, to the excitement in seeing what I can make for myself in this new place, and here's to Joseph, my best friend in this world, whom I now will get to see as often as I want instead of once or twice a year.
I'm here, Asheville. I accept the challenge of making this work.