When people ask me what I do for a living, I tell them I’m a writer. After all, at least three-fourths of the time I spend at work is spent writing. Granted, I’m not writing about stuff that possesses my soul in any appreciable way, but I am putting words to paper – er, screen – and it’s more fulfilling than any stupid retail or office job I’ve ever had. Also, the hours are good, the benefits rock and I rather like almost everyone I work with.

But in my heart, and in my mind, I see myself as a writer. Having a blog doesn’t make you a writer, just in the way that frequenting a karaoke bar doesn’t make you a singer. What makes you a writer is writing; that is, the act of putting words out there, and of trying to make them the best words they can be. It’s the art of trying to tell a story, or make a point, to be as honest and as heartfelt and true to yourself and your subject as you can be, preferably with as few words as possible. I know plenty of people who study writing and/or get paid to write who could care less about becoming better at their craft – most of these are "writers" because they think it makes them cool; I also know plenty of people who can, in a matter of seconds, state a point more succinctly and beautifully than I could ever dream, but for whom the vocation or craft of writing has never been a second thought.

When I started this blog in December 2004 I was just about to begin a graduate degree in professional writing; in the time since this website started I’ve finished that degree and secured a mildly lucrative job as a PR professional and a good deal of work on the side as a freelance writer. In the meantime, though, I’ve spent most of the last four years being really super dissatisfied with this website. I’ve tried several writing projects and creative pursuits, all to varying degrees of success or pleasure.

What it comes down to is that I have this website so I can be totally free, in a creative sense, and – oh, fuck it. This is basically my really long way of telling you I’m getting rid of Sam Fridays.

What? Was that the sound of you clicking off to another website? Hang with me for a minute while I explain, then by all means – my links page has tons of better sites.

Those of you who’ve loved keeping up with my sweet dog’s adventures have been great and supportive, and I love you for it, and when I started the project I thought it would help me to have this weekly deadline, even if only self-imposed. Instead it’s become this shackle around my neck, and every Friday that passes wherein I have NOTHING WHATSOEVER to report about Sam feels like death to me, and I am really looking forward to casting it off.

Also, photos of my dog doing stupid and/or humiliating stuff has almost nothing to do with writing.

The fact is, I have so much to write about! I want to really give you guys and myself something great, and I feel like I’m being a hack by making this blog about my stupid dog. I want to write about all I’m learning – at AGE TWENTY EIGHT – about what it means to be male in this country, and in this world, because I’ve spent this year feeling more connected with my … guyness, for lack of a better term … than ever in my life. I want to share that with you. I’ve spent this year dealing with growing older, and fear, and I want to write about all of that. I want to write – I promise to write, actually – about why I don’t want to see Religulous. I want to stop talking about the election; I need Sarah Palin to go away, for a little while at least. I want to stop griping and be more positive. I have a lot to share, and the real challenge for me now is to, well, challenge myself to share it well.

So forgive me; I’ll try to include Sam in more Daily Photo posts, which are a regularly-scheduled part of this site that I really, really enjoy.

I love keeping this website, and I love all of you guys who read it – all ten or so of you – and I am looking forward to trying harder for all our sakes.