Ten minutes to write. Less time to read.

I find words and sentences and paragraphs everywhere. They could be about a sunset or a political rally or a book I’m reading. They could complain or compliment or merely comment. But I never have a problem coming up with something to write.

Is this the way it is for most writers? That writing is similar to breathing in that it’s done automatically. That it’s part of the fabric of one’s being. I think so, although I have no empirical evidence.

I do know that if I don’t write on a regular basis, I feel out of sorts. Not surly, but definitely less fulfilled. So, not only am I back to blogging regularly, I’m also declaring 2012 “The Year of the Query,” a query being that initial contact with agents and publishers in the hope one of them loves your work and wants to help publish it.