Why am I…

I’m reading the first entry on the blog of a friend, Kathy Rhodes, whom I met last month at a creative nonfiction conference at Ole Miss.   

 “Why am I here,” Kathy asks, “when I’ve go so much to do elsewhere?”  

Though I don’t edit a journal or craft the Great American Southern novel, my list of obligations is nearly as long as hers:  run a business, raise a family, manage a household, volunteer, teach, care for an old dog and other arthritic family members.  Why add a blog to the mix? 

Tough question.  But at the deep-down core of things, I know I have to write.  Despite the sneaking suspicion that I might choose writing ahead of, say, running payroll or making dinner, this blog may be a good place to give that inner writer some space to play.