Well, things have changed.

Good lord, has it really been this long? I'm sorry. I know no one is reading, but maybe I can turn it around. I feel like you're more likely to read if this is about something.

How about a baby?

I'm going to be a father in late July or early August. For the first time, I think.

We're so very excited to meet our daughter. Maybe I'm naive, but I'm not very scared or intimidated by the idea of being a father. Sure, there will be sleepless nights, crying and relentless pooping, but since we all know that's part and parcel of baby-ness, I'm not really concerned.

Stay tuned.

What marshmallows really mean.

It doesn't take much for me to be distracted, but lately it seems to happen more often. I suspect it's a byproduct of overstimulation - the mind tends to flit from one thing to another rather quickly without really engaging in anything meaningful.

I read something online recently where the author mentioned having reread the Stanford Marshmallow Study and ran down the eventual histories of the kids who managed to hold off eating that tempting first marshmallow. They were, by and large, more successful, more attentive, worked harder and had fewer issues as adults.

I'm pretty sure the four-year-old me would have eaten that marshmallow straightaway and then went looking for the pantry where all the other marshmallows were kept. Screw two of them if I wait when I have two dozen as soon as I outfox mom?

Of course, this historical context for delayed gratification got me thinking about my writing, or lack thereof. Could I be more diligent and disciplined about writing about non-work anything if I simply forced myself to do it, only to reap the reward of a proverbial marshmallow? Would that be enough to simply get me in the habit of writing enough? What is enough? Enough to help me enjoy it again, find something to say, feel expressive and creative again?

Only time will tell. But right now, that first marshmallow sure looks good.

I'm still here.

It's been ages since my last post, but I'm feeling particularly reflective lately, so it might behoove me to post again. Very soon. If we can't express ourselves, what do we become?

Economical storytelling, part 3?

So Clay has this thing going on over at his blog, Seven, that challenges readers (both of us) to engage in a little economical storytelling, a la Ernest Hemingway's "For sale: baby shoes, never worn."

I've commented snarkily a a couple of times, but really dig the exercise. Go read his first. My most recent attempt was this:

He stares into an empty room lit by a single lamp, wondering how to create bread when there is only wine.

Go ahead. Try it. It's fun. It's like Twitter, only literary and less annoying.