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For many years, I believed that I hated to write. The only time, though, I believed this to be fact are the years that I wasn't writing. In junior high, I was writing a novel (I wonder what happened to it?). During high school, I prided myself on my ability to produce writing assignments with ease. Then there were the in-between years; the years I was raising young children and could barely put a sentence together to have a conversation, let alone formulate intelligible manuscript. Upon re-entering an academic environment, I found myself at home, once again, with jotting down the dialogue in my head. I like to write. No, I love to write. What is it about assignments that seem to strip the joy from an otherwise enjoyable activity? I like to write about simple things. I would enjoy writing about my favorite travel experience or my most enjoyed meal. Who doesn't love food? I don't even like to cook, but I watch cooking shows, and I read recipes like they're Harlequin novels. I totally understand the term "food porn." I think I could really enjoy writing about food. But, then again, if it's an assignment, a sense of duty accompanies it to snatch away at least a piece of the joy.