What is writing for, anyway?

I was thinking about why I write, or about what I like about writing, more specifically, and I realized it's like making friends. It connects me to like-minded people. To people who are crazy about animals; who understand dry humor; who see the point in fending for one's self, yet indulge in the conveniences of the modern world; who grieve when a chicken dies; who love their dogs like children; who sweep up dust bison instead of dust bunnies; whose outbuildings are made of salvaged material. It connects me to people who live in the city but yearn for the country, or people who live in the boondocks and yearn for a town like Acme, or people who live right where they want to live but who find me interesting, and want to hear what I have to say. It is as much as an inlet as an outlet. It brings readers into my world, and I love them as friends.

Blogging has prepared me for writing my book, because it has shown me that I do have an audience, and that it's made up of people like me. Maybe they're people who like what I like, and who can laugh when I laugh, cry when I cry, and share my amazement at this life I've stumbled into. Maybe they're people who can understand how this motley crew of people and animals, this logging town, and this little green acre add up to a downright amazing life.