I still think Ernest Hemingway said it best:

But, that’s what I love about writing. It threatens to rip me apart from delicate seams, it drains me entirely, it flows through every part of me, from heart to head to hand to pen to paper. But it’s not always smooth. It’s terrible and beautiful, and begs to wake the deepest parts of me. That’s what draws me to it.

I am miles from where I would like to be, but this is me finally finding my voice, and learning to put one foot in front of the other. I am always looking for book recommendations, authors, poetry contests to enter, feedback, tips for revision, other suggestions, etc. and, of course, am always interested in connecting with other writers.

Thanks for reading!