I'm still getting the hang of this - writing, posting, trying to figure out what to say, what I want to say. It's funny, because I write for a living - yes, I am a writer, but a ghostwriter for the top dog in a nonprofit. So my writing is rarely in my own voice, but rather filtered through the voice of Mr. Dog. (Doggy he is, too, but those are stories for another day.) And it's contagious! My voice is altered, hidden, or more likely not yet discovered. Or maybe I'm just getting to know it. Let me tell you, it's a slow process.

The most agonizing this is reading over what I've read. Editing my writing at work is easy - I read it back as if it were not my own, and in many cases it isn't. Sure, I generated the product, but there isn't feeling in it. It's meditated upon, stewed over, but really not from the heart. No, that's not cheating or selling out - maybe I went to far with that last statement. It comes from an honest part of me, honest to my own style (rambling, nonlinear, comma-happy). The subject matter is policy-oriented, which is what I suppose I take umbrage with. Not that I have any real problems with that as such, but after writing so long for somebody else, I don't know the process for writing for myself. My fingers are on the same spot on the keyboard, but it feels different. The blank document is still intimidating, but I retreat further. I need to develop a process, which I suppose is what this blog is. I really hope that nobody reads it, because it's this vapid, narcissistic, sophomoric rambling collection of un-thought-out, pretentious crap. But, having not really written in my voice in a while (ever), I probably have a lot of crap gumming up the works that it wouldn't hurt to spew out.

I'm not rereading this post. BLAH!