I looked at my work calendar and watched the day spill over with back-to-back meetings. It had been that way for a while—one invite bleeding right into the next. Moving automatically through the schedule, an overwhelming realization hit me: my job description technically included writing, but I wasn’t actually getting to do much of it anymore.
A good day was a well-worded or funny email. Maybe some developmental editing for a colleague, but my own writing time was practically non-existent. I was a writer who wasn’t writing.
The idea of starting my own blog built up slowly. I considered it, but pooh-poohed the thought as soon as it came to me. What do I even have to say? Who did I think I was—some famous actor or bestselling writer? A self-help guru? I was a nobody. Who would even want to read what I had to say?
As I sat through another day of meetings, though, it hit me: I needed to get back to writing for myself. I’ve always written to find out what I thought and believed. I needed to find that part of myself again.
Finding the Groove
From those small beginnings, I started pulling together a handful of drafts. They weren’t all that memorable–one about the letter I wanted to send to my son’s teachers, another on the day we brought our daughter home as a newborn, a third on the challenges of running. The pieces might have been simple, but they got me back into the habit. A few weeks later, I researched platforms and built my own WordPress site.
The goal was simple: write straight from the heart. I used the word “Authentic” a lot in describing my plans. It’s a big word. I simply wanted a place where I could be honest. When I was happy, say it. When I was frustrated or touched by something, share it. No sugar coating, no posturing, no showing off.
I had to “play the game” in corporate life. I sure as heck didn’t want to do it in my own writing. I wanted to write what I really thought and not worry how someone else might perceive something.
Eleven years later, I’m still here.
A Little About Me (and This Space)
If you’re new around here, welcome. I’m Brian. By day, I still navigate the corporate world, but this blog has become my creative anchor. It’s where I go when I’m processing grief and sadness, where I turn when I’m celebrating, and usually the first screen I pull up on my phone.
How often I post has varied over the years. Some years more, some less. I try to be a “good citizen” and read and comment on other posts. I admit to failing there. I’m not as active as I would like to be.
Beyond the day job, I’ve been married to my best friend coming up on 33 years, and together we’ve raised three kids who are now out forging their own paths.
My primary writing passions are this blog and a novel tucked away in my desk drawer that I occasionally pull out for another round of edits. At my core, I’m a storyteller. I write about the shifting seasons of life—from the wild days of active parenthood to the quiet adjustments of an empty nest, alongside reflections on career, family, and the craft of writing. I believe in roots, resilience, and the power of a great story.
I also try to find the good in most of my stories. Oh, I’m fully aware that life can be hard—my family and I have faced our share of health, financial and emotional challenges. Life will push you to your limits. It will run over you without a second thought, but I try to look for light in the quiet corners and meet every milestone and setback as an opportunity for growth.
Yes, I know that sounds sappy on paper or screen, but it’s true. I believe that a good day requires a little of everything: a laugh, a smile, and a moment that hits you right where it matters.
Some recent shots of my wife and my sons (minus our daughter and son-in-law.)
From the Archives
So, whether you’ve been reading since day one or just stumbled upon this corner of the internet, here are twelve pieces from the archives (eleven plus one more for luck) that capture what this space has always been about:
—Carving My Own Path. Watching my father use a pocketknife to turn a block of wood into a piece of art taught me patience. I never mastered his sharp tools, but I found my own chisel in the pen—carving out words to find my voice and build my world.
—Missing the Big Valley. A love letter to the rural community where I grew up, and the roots that still anchor me today.
—This I know — Version 2.0. A fresh look at the core principles, quiet truths, and life lessons that continue to guide me through every shifting season.
—The writing process: The long and winding road. A candid reflection on the messiness, self-doubt, and ultimate joy of putting thoughts into words.
—Saved by a library. How a quiet room became a refuge when I needed escape and inspiration the most.
—Overcoming my stutter. A reflection on navigating the silence and self-doubt of a childhood stutter—and how finding my voice on the page helped me find it in real life.
—An Amish girl leaves home to create a new way of life. The story of how my mother made the brave choice to step away from the only world she knew at sixteen to forge her own path.
—100 things I love!. A joyful, eclectic inventory of the simple pleasures, small moments, and everyday wonders that make life rich
—Oh, to be a kid again!. A nostalgic trip back to long summer days, untamed imaginations, and the pure freedom of childhood.
—Santa makes a pit stop. A favorite holiday work of fiction that captures the quiet magic of parenthood and keeping the spirit of Christmas alive.
—My mom lied. Unpacking the well-meaning little fibs our parents tell us—and realizing the profound love hidden inside every single one.
—What an Old Flannel Shirt Taught Me About Forgiveness. One of my dad’s old shirts becomes a poignant reminder of grace, second chances, and the quiet lessons of love and patience over time.
Thank You
Do you have a favorite piece from over the years, or a topic you’d love to see me tackle next? Drop a comment below—I’d love to hear from you. I’d also love to hear what drives you to write or be creative. Finally, if you’re new here, feel free to subscribe. Here’s to the next chapter!
And of course, my son’s bulldog, Panzer, and me smiling for the camera.
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