I often wonder what compels me to cut open my veins and bleed all over this keyboard that sits in front of me. I apologize for that graphic image. But for those of you who are acquainted with the metaphor, often attributed to Ernest Hemingway, you know that I am talking about the craft of writing. What possesses me to share with total strangers all my fears, my hopes, my dreams, my parenting adventures (and struggles), my political frustrations, my theological meanderings? Do I have an insatiable desire for attention? Well, maybe… Honestly, though, I think it is something else. I think it is how writers are wired. I think…