I don’t usually get all touchy-feely, but when I do I like to do it in public. Because that sounds smart to me.

Thanksgiving is an odd little holiday. I have long thought that Americans have subpar holidays, and Thanksgiving is a great example. Rather than a wondrous and life-affirming festival people come from all around the world to attend, we get a day to eat ourselves into a coma, watch football, and get annoyed by our families. Oh and be thankful I guess. The family thing is fine, but shouldn’t we be thankful all year around? This is a weird culture I live in, let me yell you.

But screw it, I’ll bite. Here are a few (writing-related) things I’m thankful for. I’m always thankful for them, this just seems like a good opportunity to say so:

I’m thankful I have time to write. I don’t have as much as I’d like, but I’ve got enough to keep going. That’s priceless.

I’m thankful for my friends, who have been putting up with me talking about this stuff for years now. Special thanks to those who keep telling me to finish the damn book. I need that sometimes.

I’m thankful to my editor for his valuable feedback so far, with more sure to come. I’m also thankful to my proofreaders, who will hopefully be giving me more of the same in the near future. I might even tell them who they are soon.

I’m thankful to my family, who only occasionally question what I’m doing and/or try to stamp out my dreams. That might not sound like something to be thankful for, but at least their intentions are good.

I’m thankful to Divine for letting me write at Random Curiosity for going on two years now, and to my fellow writers and very tolerant readers, who continue to put up with my silliness.

Finally, I’m thankful to you. Thank you for making your way over to this blog and reading about my silly quest to become an author. It’s a long shot at the best of times, but it doesn’t seem quite so far out of reach when I see you all coming here. So thanks.