… and that is why I write.


If it hasn’t become abundantly clear to those that view my blog with any regularity, I fancy myself to be a writer. In all seriousness, I make part of my living with words. My only complaint is that I cannot yet sustain myself on these earnings.

Recently, I wrote a piece called “I don’t want kids.” The post was, to oversimplify, about how monumentally frustrating it is to have people try and tell you how to live. I have made a sound decision and it is not one that I should have to justify.

The response to this post was surprising. I received feedback from like-minded individuals with their stories and frustrations. I received private notes about sticking to my guns. I had one person tell me it made her think about her conduct in the past. The post made people reflect, emote and share.

I couldn’t ask for more.

It’s moments like those that remind me why I love writing.



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