19 november 1999 | back | archive | forward

i think i want to write more. not this stuff, here. i clearly do enough of this. i mean real stories. with beginnings, middles and ends. stories that become books, books that are read, read by people like you and me, and maybe even cherished like the ones i have on my bookshelf.

i've been thinking about it a lot, lately. it started when i decided that i didn't want to be a reporter, anymore, but thought maybe, maybe i could be a writer instead. and then i met aimee bender and brian andreas, two of my favorites ever, who just inspired me that much more.

what really got me thinking, however, was an e-mail i got the other day from ryan, my friend from college. he asked if i'd mind if he put up some of my poetry on his website. poetry? what poetry? i thought.

and then it all came flooding back. the asian american cultural expressions class we took together. the collection of writing i turned in for my final project. the poem that the director of hereandnow wanted to use for their shows. the rush of hearing the actors on stage introduce me as an up-and-coming writer (oh i was in the audience and they called my name and i had to wave so that everyone could see who i was). it was that feeling, that poking, gnawing, nibbling feeling, that whispered, what if…? what if i am a writer? what if i could publish something? what if there was a book with my name on the spine?

i don't know, but i think maybe it's time i find out.

fresh:
fragments, get 'em while they're hot. and go, more people, places and things.

inspired:
my friends are throwing me a birthday (nov.22, remember) party tonight! yes, yes, a party. how fabulous.

lost:
ugh. i just sort of deleted the last entry, but it's saved, so when i get home sunday i'll put it back up.

found:
weren't those links in the entry enough for you? geez.

nonsequitur:
purely hypothetical, but i'm wondering, how many of you would be interested if i offered space for a journal of sorts? let me know. something's brewing in my head. don't be let down, however, if nothing comes of it.

contact me:
send all e-mail to christine@maganda.org.