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writing fail

You wouldn't necessarily know it lately, but I do write.  I lean toward semi-historical fiction and/or hard sf (which parallels the mix of books I grew up on), but one of the most viable current projects is mainstream fiction. 

I also write poetry.  I suspect poetry is as close as we'll ever get to direct thought transference to strangers across distance and time, but human language is such an inadequate tool for the job.  Most poetry I read sets my teeth on edge.  Some of the poetry I write does not.  Sometimes it conveys a strong image to someone else, but usually not the one I'd attempted to send.

I write non-fiction and expository text, but that doesn't seem like writing so much as outlining; the meat of the story is missing.

I write because I get crabby and itchy if I don't.  I write because there's something I keep trying to say, and I need to keep trying to say it.  I always return to writing, even if the absence is sometimes far too long.

...There is something I wanted to say here, but I've deleted it at least four times now.  The above innocuous bio is all that came out.  What I wanted to say is nothing new or earth-shattering, but it involves a story that is not yet mine to tell.  And I hate sounding all emo and intentionally mysterious; there's enough of that online. 

For now, I have no idea how to put this in a poem.


Friending welcome, but lurking is fine too.

Constructive criticism is also welcome - whatever it is, trust me, I've heard worse.



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