This is just me, no one else.

I don’t write to write, I write to work through a plot that occurs to me. No plot, no write, no problem.

In 2014 I decided to write. I had five or ten stories from the ’90s that I had no idea what to do with at that time. Because I was inspired by Strayed’s “Wild”, I wrote some “Wild” related things. Despite no practical writing experience (I did take a useless for me online course, from which I got nothing), I found it relatively easy to publish if I didn’t try the <1% acceptance rate places. Because I’m a hobby writer, I’m not looking for a best seller or a novel. Novels usually have tons of filler.

Now I find that I have written everything that I need to write and am working on a silly thing about the Chupa people of the Filipines (Espagnol).

Plots occur to me at any time. I have written stories in my head while doing park stewardship (mostly removing invasive plants).

Inspirations — the aforementioned “Wild”, people that lick, daddy issues, broken hearts, cars with personality, death (I’m old) — no discernible pattern.