I long to write! I long to seek out someone who doesn’t exist and compose their life through poetics. I long to sail a story arc through tumultuous waters right to its watery grave. I want to stare at a milky-white page for only a moment, before filling that page with words that hurt or entice or sadden. I want to write something real, I want to feel like I felt when words poured from my fingers and my pen while I was writing my novel this past year; words that are good to me, even if they’re not good for anyone else. I want to write real words, strung together to make real stories. I long to find my long-lost friend creativity, and manage to coax it back into my tiny life. I long to write!