It never fails that every six months or so, someone who knew me from my days as a journalism student prods me to get back into the field. Their arguments always run like this: “You’re such a good writer. You should really consider it; it would be so easy for you.” “But don’t you miss it? The research, the interviewing … creating the story?” “Why’d you get a degree in it if you’re not going to use it?” The truth is, I do miss it. I miss writing with a purpose. The only writing I do these days are blogs and even then, it’s only when I’m in turmoil. I would love to write about things that have little or nothing to do with me, my feelings, and my experiences. And I really miss the writing process, especially the editing. That was always the part I enjoyed most: going back to a piece with fresh eyes, looking for some detail or insight I left out that the reader(s) wouldn’t get anywhere else.