Ok, here goes.

I've done this blogging thing before. I always run out of good reasons to keep up with it. I think maybe I have a short attention span, particularly when it comes to my own "creative" projects. There's another site out there with a bunch of garbage I've written which has a very nice little url and its own web hosting which is going to expire at the end of this month. Since I don't have a job, or any good reason to pay for it anymore, everything is moving here.

Except that nothing is moving here, apart from my own brain. Which is ok, since this is an altogether new project.

I began writing a novel this morning at about 3:30. It isn't the first time I've ever begun writing a novel. Or begun something absurd in the middle of the night. I have a feeling about this one though, a sort of optimism that I can't say I've felt before. A sense of internal organization about the project that might actually compel me to get beyond just a couple thousand words. And so I'm going to write on this blog about what I've been doing...not about the content of the book, of course, that would be insane. But to keep up with my progress. And I'm going to tell the world about it and invite all the literate and literary folks I know to follow along if they want to.

I am sure there are thousands of these kinds of blogs out there. People who get big ideas about their art and decide to keep a sort of journal to keep track of what they're up to. Probably most of them end in a fizzled-out pile of ashes, goals and dreams derailed and set aside. Maybe that's where we'll end up with this. But maybe, if I can keep it up, I can produce some interest and energy that will keep me motivated and end up with something better than a half-assed graduate thesis that doesn't come anywhere near being a book. There's only two ways this can go, really. Success, or self-destruction. The story of my life.