Earlier this week, I was frustrated with my day job, and kicking around ideas for a possible career change someday, when I happened to remember that I love to write. One small problem, though. With the exception of my aviation journal, I haven’t done any writing to speak of since college.

Around 2 am the same night, I had an epiphany, and a raging case of insomnia to go with it. The insomnia was probably brought on by the two buckets of popcorn I had at the movies, but the epiphany kept me awake for hours. A blog would be the perfect laboratory for flexing my literary muscles back into shape. Mixaphorically speaking.

I’ve never been really interested in having a blog like the ones I read. I love reading about the latest geekety gadgets, playing with the latest web app, and wasting time with new productivity techniques. For the most part, I’ll leave them to others who are more than up to the task. Instead, I’ll focus on the tools, tricks and art of writing. I don’t know what kind yet; hopefully a little of everything. Fiction is going to be the hardest, partly because it’s what I enjoy reading the most, and my standards are high. Partly because I have zero ideas for the next great American novel.

The driving force behind this flight of fancy (there go those mixaphors again), besides the obvious creative satisfaction, is that I want to someday replace my day job with something more flexible and enjoyable. Who knows — maybe I was meant to write prose instead of software. Writing also meets my three criteria for a killer career change: motive, means, and opportunity. Maybe I’ve just been watching too much CSI, but in any case, my next three posts are cut out for me.

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