I don’t know that I’ve ever written for anyone other than myself, which is something most people would say about their writing. I think.

Once you get past the: …well, I write because it 

…pays the bills
is required of me for school/the boss/etc.

…once you get past all that everyone writes only for themselves. I think. I qualify that because this is a blog, and not a poetry or writing site, and comments are welcome.

As I investigate my own process, I find that thinking about who might read my things has never detracted me. I’ve always been pretty forthright in my intentions, and haven’t really wavered. Opinions are opinions, and fiction is fiction. Facts are facts, imagination is imagination.

I had something I wanted to explore. Something running around the periphery of my consciousness and I don’t have it yet.

That’s something else. Unless I’m writing a report, or a news article, or a police report — something factual — I usually never know where I will go with my writing. Let me give you an example. Grocery lists. Well, lets see …I need milk, bananas, and so forth. I don’t know  where the writing will lead, but I know when it’s finished because I stop writing.

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And thanks,
Father Luke
Still alive, in Portland, Oregon