I've been writing stories in my head for nearly 4 decades. That should sound as credible as someone who says they've been paying their taxes in their head for 40 years. At least one doesn't land you in jail. But really, not productive or admirable. One of my favorite humans is a professional writer and when I asked her for advice on writing, she gave me the best answer. Write. Turns out, that's a requirement for being a writer. And she suggested I start small, so I'm here to try my hand at some stories.

What kind of stories?  The 7th grade humiliation of disqualifying from a swim race by inadvertently back-flopping off the diving block. Like most 40-something folks in mid-life crisis, memories of my parents that seemed too complicated to share while they were still here. That one time I ran a marathon in Anchorage and made bad post-race choices involving lobster mac and cheese and a loft bed in a hostel. How I survived 5 months of sleeping on a mattress on the floor of my old bedroom in my childhood home, with my quirky and unfiltered dad, a nudist 3-year-old, and my husband. Preview - highlights include an oven fire caused by mouse poop and accidentally eating 64 ants swarming a granola bar. This might be the full range, if you're deciding whether to get emotionally invested.

I promised myself that someday I would coax the stories out of my head, so now is as good a time as any to let the imperfection tumble out. I'll leave this post as the beginning, to remind myself of that exact intention. Here we go...