Today I started wondering about why I started writing. I could have stopped. But I didn't.
Grad school demanded pages upon pages of words stapled at the upper right hand corner. These papers were required and I actively enjoyed proving my point.
Those two years working towards my Master's Degree were tough. I was nowhere near my comfort zone. College wasn't as hard of a transition - my best friend had already been there for a year and I recognized many faces in my own class. Buffalo may have been the same state but it was far from the same state of mind. I struggled. My roots - Magic cards and Case Logics full of my identity were lost in the transition. My boss and I clashed. I got dumped.
That year I found comfort in words. I retreated into my books and worked on excelling in the classroom. Magic Online provided comfort - a collection as strong as my research university internet and as portable as my laptop. It was known and new. It was safe. I wanted to play more but was on a budget so I started writing to feed my habit.
Starting to write was hard. The first thing I had ever written for a major website was spurred on by my then girlfriend. She encouraged me to submit those words. During that first year she dumped me over the phone. I remember the long process of severing any strand tying myself to her and writing, even for me, was a frayed thread of her.
Somehow, in my whiniest days, I overcame my own petulant self and started writing.
I graduated, got a job, moved a bunch and stopped writing. Then I started again. I got poached, switched sites, added more responsibilities, got let go. At some point I crossed the 100 article mark. I think I'm over 150 now? I don't know. I write more now than I ever have even if I have fewer features.
At some point, bemoaning a lack of funds to my content manager, I got a chance to take on the role of editor. My role started with news updates. I would slide my massive lap top (smaller than my first) into my bag and drag it everywhere in case stories broke. They did.
Weekends I would have to take breaks from dinner or cooking or laundry or fun to get push an update live.
I've written on vacation - I was working towards deadline on a cruise ship when I regained wireless and saw I had been let go from a gig. I write in coffee shops and on my couch. Right now I'm waiting for that same best friend from college - my best man from a few months ago- and I'm working on a device I bought specifically for writing.
I couldn't carry around my lap top anymore. I bought it before I considered myself a capital double you Writer. Odd, since I had been earning money from it for six years at that point.
Last week I finally gave in and bought myself something specifically to put words out into the world. I've been writing for eight years. I don't know if I'll ever feel like I'm actually a Writer. But I guess I am?
That same content manager who gave me a job also told me to read a book - Writing Tools by Roy Peter Clark. Something that stuck with me from Clark's words was a way around writer's block.
Just start writing - let the words flow. That's what this piece is. It's getting words out.
I write because I'm a Writer. I don't know what I would write about if it weren't for Magic. I'd probably have some Hot Takes on sports or be a mediocre reviewer of obscure music. Maybe I'd be better - you can tell me since in the archives here are my attempts at other topics.
I don't know if this is a new start. I'm not leaving my other gigs - I love them too much. But sometimes, I just want to write about the Mets or doing a deep dive on a song. I want the words to get out.
My head is cluttered enough as is. I just spent hard earned money on something that will let me write on my terms. I better well fucking use it.