I had planned to write about villains today.

Instead, I found myself moved to tears by a blog post I read and the comments that followed, and I sat feeling helpless for a moment, blinking back tears, rifling through my memories and wrestling with the itch in my fingers. Because I don’t really want to write this post right now. In fact, it’s the last post I want to write. It’s the one argument I have avoided with religious zeal, trying to stay on the sidelines and keep my blinders on. Trying to keep my eyes on my goal.

Book on shelf.

That’s my goal.

If I don’t want to write this, then why on earth am I doing it? And what, pray tell, am I trying to say?

Book on shelf has been my goal for over a decade. I’d walk through Chapter One Bookstore in Hamilton, Montana and…

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