This Is Not a Test (It’s a Blog)

If this were a test, I’d already be circling “C” for every answer and hoping the curve was generous.
Luckily, this isn’t a test — it’s a blog. Which means no grades, no deadlines, just me versus a blinking cursor and the ever-present chance I’ll delete the whole thing in a fit of perfectionism.

So here we are. SALT+TONGUE has a website. Which feels a little like opening the door to a house I’ve been building for years, only to realize the paint is still wet and the furniture hasn’t arrived. You’re stepping in mid-construction, and that’s on purpose.

What You’ll Find Here

• Poems that behave like caffeine (sometimes gentle chamomile, sometimes a double-shot espresso you regret at 11 p.m.).

• Essays that refuse to come to tidy conclusions.

• Fragments — the bits and pieces that don’t fit anywhere else but refuse to be quiet.

• Updates from behind the scenes, where novels stretch themselves into whole worlds one stubborn page at a time.

What You Won’t Find

• Me pretending I woke up enlightened at 5 a.m. (spoiler: I didn’t).

• Photos staged to prove my desk is clean (it isn’t, it never will be). You will get photos of the dirt instead.

• A perfectly curated life. If I spill coffee on a draft, you’ll hear about the stain too.

Why Bother Blogging At All?

Because silence gets heavy. Because sometimes stories need a place to live before they’re bound in a book. Because I wanted a room that was mine, where I could set words down and let you pick them up if you want them.

This isn’t a glossy magazine spread or a perfectly staged feed. It’s more like a notebook left open on the table — the kind you might glance at and see something underlined twice, circled, almost legible.

The Invitation

If you’re here, you’re already part of the beginning. Congratulations, you survived my first post. That makes you a founding member of this corner of the internet. No membership card, but bragging rights are included.

Stay tuned. Or wander off and come back later. Either way, know this: the words here won’t always flatter, but they’ll always try to meet you honestly — with a crooked smile and maybe a crumb or two in the margins.

—Jody

P.S. If you see typos, call them “Easter eggs.” They’re intentional.

Reminder: Starting messy is still starting.