All of those things.

I'm writing a book. Well, I have been. It is hard to write about a book, especially about a topic that you care dearly about. It is a battle for me. I'm so used to getting to the climactic elements as quickly as I can. Poetry is all about making a point in a few words. It's like every letter costs you something. To be overly eloquent or detailed is to muddy up the whole thing. But the book is about a topic that hits home, and I care deeply about it. I want to drag it out, I want to tell the whole truth. Every line is precious, but I want to tell the whole story as well. It's about names, and the power that they hold. One boy's name in particular. We are so closely tied to our names, mentioning a name brings to mind a whole applecart of feelings, ideas, and memories. Some names make me smile and remember times that I've forgotten. Other names bring to mind the most terrible days, things I'd rather forget. My name is a mix. My own name. I love my name, but I also have it associated with the darkest and most troubling times in my life. I battled with it so much that I almost changed it. The boy in my book doesn't know his last name, mostly to protect him with the association that he would have with that name. Can you imagine finding out one day that John Dillinger, or worse, Himmler, or some terrible man was in your ancestry. That's a weight around your neck, that's an albatross that you couldn't easily shake. It's a name. It's my book. It's me.