Once again, after a long hiatus, I am happily typing up in my treehouse.

You know you are a writer when even sorrow brings you to the page. When you can make sense of your emotions and untangle the wires scrambled up in your head with words in a straight line.

You know you are a writer when libraries, bookstores and stationery shops turn you into a complete nerd. When you can’t make it past a written sign, flyer, magazine or computer screen without reading it. When you watch people and mentally imagine their story. When you wish you had written it. When you DO write it down.

You know you are a writer when scenery and landscapes escape your verbal grasp and you try to make sense of it by detaching and describing it in detail. When you sense every movement, touch, smell, sound and taste to the nth degree. When you try to find just the right word to depict the profound effect everything has on you.

You know you are a writer when solitude is an opportunity to write. When hours go by, you look up from your work and realize the time, hungry and groggy because you missed lunch. When you commit to honoring your appointment to self because it feeds you best.

It is good and right to be here where fingers tap, ideas soar and I am covered in serenity.