Before I committed to this new blogging venture, I asked myself why I wanted to do it. I’ve done it twice before, on different platforms, and found that my interest flagged after a short while. Posts became less frequent and were finally limited to simple announcements of new publications. They were uninteresting to write and undoubtedly uninteresting to read, so I stopped.

I refer to 2010 as The Lost Year. A lot happened last year, some of it fantastic, but most of it pretty rough. I wrote almost nothing. It was a hinge moment in my life: I questioned everything. I doubted everything.

But that year clarified a few things for me. Perhaps the most important is the realization that, aside from my daughter, there is one thing that consistently makes me happy, that always fulfills me. And that’s writing. When I finish a good day of it, I feel euphoric. It is quite literally like a drug.

I turned 40 a few days ago, and that was a clarifying event as well. Time feels finite in a way that it never has before. My daughter is 10, and is preparing to leave her childhood behind her. My hair (what there is of it) is filled with gray. There is still so much to do. I have at least three stories seeing the light of day this year, and more to write. A novel proposal is due in a matter of weeks. And there is this site to maintain.

So here I am, beginning again. Bloodied but invigorated.