So I haven't written much lately. A couple of people, let's just call them "fans" for my ego's sake, have asked me what's up with the no writing thing. I mean, there hasn't been a real update on this site since April - the last cop story was really just an extended e-mail that I prettied up and posted for the world to read. Other than that there's been shit new for three months.

My standard line has been, "Well, I'm really busy lately." Which is really true. I'm over to my girlfriend's place a couple nights a week instead of being at home slaving over a warm keyboard all night. And I still have stories to share. I've been wanting to write an in depth review of Steve Olson's "Mapping Human History" - which is one of the most interesting books I've read ever. I also have this review of a CD that I've been pondering, the band Showoff imploded before their second CD was released, but they are selling burned copies on their website to pay off debt. It's one of the best CDs I've bought in a long time.

So yeah, I've been too busy to write these stories. But they'd take me what, a few hours to write? I could find the time. It's more than that. It's the anti-writers block. I have people to talk to. Vent to. Tell my stories to.

True, most of my friends (loosest sense of the word here) will mock me about my rambling stories and pointless anticdotes. Seriously, I've had lunches and game nights where it degrades into "Make Fun of Josh Night". Often. But, if you haven't noticed on this here website, rambling stories and pointless anticdotes are my bread and butter. That's what I do. I take one idea and stretch it over the course of several paragraphs. It's my thing. My bit. It's not much, but it's what I've got.

I guess my problem right now is that I'm not lonely. See, usually it's when I'm lonely that I write. Instead of talking to friends, I write in my clever and fun conversational tone pretty much what I would have said to my friends. Now, I'm not saying that those periods in my life when I was most prolific I was a geek all alone in my room at the computer all night ... but it's not too far removed.

Maybe that's what I was going for. Maybe it's just my romantic vision of professional writers. Jaded, bitter hacks drinking whiskey alone at a typewriter hammering out the best novel / poems / essays around. Maybe that's not real life.

I'm going to try and write more often, just for practice and fun's sake. And to amuse you, as well. But mostly so I can sit in my darkened room drinking Jack Daniels. Alone.

- Josh Edwards