So I was laying on the couch the other day, staring at the ceiling and practicing my self-loathing, when something jarring happened: I had a productive thought.

As evidenced by this site (which I forgot existed), I don’t appear to have written anything in like, three years.  Sounds about right; I’m a lazy sack of crap.

BUT WAIT, I actually have been writing stuff! But it’s all snippets of fantasy things, scattered all over my hard drive. A couple years ago, I started playing D&D because that’s what the cool kids do now and I would like to be cool. My friends wanted to be cool too, but none of us were cool enough to be the Dungeon Master – so I figured I’d just go ahead and do it until one of them realized they would be much, much better at it and take over.

A-a-a-anyway, my productive thought was this; I should gather up all my little bits of D&D fiction stuff and shove it all on this site, so it’s all in one place. Then I can look at it and say things like “Dang, alright. I guess I do still write stuff.” Or “Wow, how have I written so much stuff and not improved at all?”