OK, now it’s 189,000,001. With this humble outpost of vowels and consonants with a little too much punctuation thrown in.

 And while those numbers are astonishing, even more baffling is why I’m so damn late to this party. For the first 22 years of my life, all I wanted to be was a journalist. A cross between Howard Cosell and Walter Winchell, mixed with a little Edward R. Murrow and sprinked with a liberal dose of liberal Walter Cronkite.

I would write powerful columns. Scorching hot expose stories. And books. Many, many best selling books!

Fast forward another 27 years. My journalism career aborted after two fun-yet-very poor years at a small town Oregon newspaper. I work in marketing for an interesting company, and for many others along the way. Mattel. Hasbro. My own companies, great and small. I’m pretty happy with the way my career has taken off. But yet….I’m not writing.

No columns or exposes. And certainly no books. Not even a pamphlet. Or even a blog.

Until today! And the reason I started it? Because I was finally going to write a book. I had the topic — Michelle’s upcoming project. I was armed with books about how to write books. I had time cleared off my calendar and I was ready to start.

And then project just seemed too big. Daunting. I didn’t know where to start. Writer’s block? You have to actually be a writer to have that. I had pre-writer’s block.

So instead I’m starting here. One post at a time. Will GuestWomb turn into that best-selling book that I have always wanted to pen? I don’t know.

But it’s great to be finally writing again.