If the pen is mightier than the sword, it is also mightier than my vocal chords.
There’s a crisis looming. It’s already started to wrap it’s tendrils around a family I know.
Actually the tailspin started 9 years ago yesterday as a plummet, and then 9 years ago today it became a full nose-dive tail-spin kind of thing.
Writing—something I can usually do as easily as breathing—is like walking for me right now. I have to think about it.
My prolonged absence has a few causes. Some were beyond my control. Some were not. Let me explain.