I started writing on the internet at twelve years old, back when the internet was called Xanga. Sixteen years of this site later, the habit has become the record of a life — fatherhood, faith, failure, and everything I figured out one essay too late.
Sixteen years of ink, still flowing.
Every month since July 2010 · hover to read the water · click to open that month
Conduct
This week, I learned an invaluable lesson from Atlas, who made one comment that left me thinking longer than he meant it to.
Read the essay →The words I keep reaching for.
Counted across every published title — 1338 of them and rising. Apparently I have written about love thirty times and I am not done.
“If I had more time, I would have written less.— from the desk, on writing itself
Three of these became books.
Letters to a son who had not arrived yet. A family told in stories. And one book I was scared to publish. Three volumes, one life — all of it grown from this desk.
Learned on a typewriter.
Before the blog, before Xanga, there was a machine with no delete key. It taught me that words are commitments. Watch it run the old drills — home row first, always — then take the keys yourself.
A hat tip to Remington typewriters.