I got tired of not knowing where to send my work or knowing anyone who likes the same kinds of writing as me.
I got tired of submitting pieces solely for the sake of getting published. Rather than really being a part of the conversation.
I got tired of visiting artist sites and writers sites but never getting to visit the artist or writer, including my own.
I got tired of thinking about my stuff like it has been written for some stuffy fun crushing grammarian when it’s meant for creative, curious, conscious, caring, competent, courageous, catapult people.
I got tired of keeping documents in file folders and forgetting those file folders among other file folders that get lost in storage. I got tired of putting poems, thoughts, ideas, questions, things that reach out to the world into file folders knowing nothing would come of them.
I got tired of seeing notebook pages and docs as if they’re assignment reels instead of environments for explorers, adventurers and companions.
As if a known thing can discover things unknown. A blog is an unknown thing.
I got tired of missing the point—not finding you, whoever tf you are.
I got tired of being called Norm. My name is Dan Dorman.
This is a result of the passion my life grants me. This each day thing. This wishing I were writing thing. This falling in love with it all over again thing.
This is my adventure to find the flat edge of the planet.
This is scribble on flyleaf.