Writing

I want to be a writer. No, not really, but it would make sense. Ever since I can remember, I've loved books. I love characters, plots, settings, and details. Man, I love details. Anyone who has heard me tell a story with an unnecessary amount of details knows I love them. Can't live without them. Naturally, as much as I like books, I should be a writer. Unfortunately, I can't write. I don't mean that I don't know how to physically write. Obviously, I have the ability to pick up a writing utensil and construct both simple and complex sentences. I can even type them, as you are witnessing now. I just don't have anything interesting to say. You can probably see what I mean by the fact that I am writing about writing. Nothing at all. But everyone writes blogs about interesting things everyday, so why not me? I've kept a blog about my son to keep my far away family informed, but I doubt anyone else really wants to read about a new tooth or the fact that he can stand on one foot for about 1.3 seconds. So when a friend requested to read my blog, I thought, maybe I should try to be interesting in another way. So here I am writing. About writing. And I'm still uninteresting. But for the sake of trying new things, I'm going to attempt it. As a disclaimer to my ability, I have never been funny or clever, or even remotely original, so this may become incredibly mind-numbing for you readers, if there are readers. So, whoever is reading this, here goes nothing!