Beginning

   A few weeks ago, my dad called me after reading Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell. I haven't read the book myself, but he tells me the theory is that all great skill comes not from some innate talent but as a result of 10,000 hours of practicing the skill.

   I've got about two more years left as a creative writing major, and I wonder how many hours I've logged already. I started writing a lot when I discovered email around age ten and sent probably 500-1000 rambling words to friends about my adventurous life on a pseudo-farm.
   In high school, I wrote a lot by hand but continued to write emails to friends. It's a habit I've fallen out of now and know others would find odd. Letters and emails are not the preferred way to communicate, but I'm thankful I did at the time.
   I've also made many friends who don't live within driving distance, and I've had to learn how to best convey myself with words to make up for the lack of physical presence. It's an upgraded form of my former email-writing, but it's writing nonetheless.

   I had a blog when Xanga was cool.

   The result of rampant reading and the lifelong habit of writing have given me a wonderful relationship with words. I don't just mean vocabulary. The words in themselves are merely the paint, but you must still select canvas, brushes, strokes, styles, and the image itself.

   I've also learnt that writing is essential to who I am. For a brief period, I was studying for a non-English degree, and I neglected my habit of writing. I returned only as a last resort when my life had, for other reasons, begun to change and transform beyond what my head could keep up with. I remember this moment after writing for the first time in months when I just went, "Oh. This is what I was missing." I need it.

   Obviously, there's still much to be improve. This post itself is rambly and perhaps not to the point. It's practice though.
   This whole blog is. I want to start practicing and experimenting, but I was never good at keeping a journal. I can't write if I'm not going to be read. It feels like standing in a corner and talking to myself if I write secretly. Of course, who knows how many people will actually read this blog, but it helps me write if I can trick myself into thinking at least one person's reading.

   I plan on dallying in nonfiction, creative nonfiction, short stories, flash fiction, poetry, etc. I'll indicate what genre each post is in the title, if it's not obvious. The main point is to write, hopefully once a day.

  I used to worry that I had no material to write once a day, but if I've learned anything in the past few years, it's that my life is fully of material.