How many times must I insist I absolutely do not have time for this madness before it actually sinks in? I’m not saying I’m not completely in love with insanity of the literary variety, because I am. Sometimes people do crazy things without meaning to, or even when they don’t want to. Really, I’m just doing this because I want to. I could stop, right now.
But I won’t. 4,000 words and there’s no turning back.
When you wake up in the middle of the night, what are you thinking about? Are you contemplating that awful nightmare you just had, or regretting that last mug of coffee you drank before settling into bed to read a good book for awhile?
Do you want to know how I know I’m a writer, no matter how many days I find myself sitting in front of my laptop wondering where the words are and why they won’t appear on the page I’m staring at? Because when I wake up in the middle of the night (probably regretting that caramel-flavored coffee), I’m thinking about my characters. Nope, not my own life. Ally’s life, or Abby’s perfectionism, or what happened to Michelle and Ryan after I stopped writing down their story (yes, I still wonder. But I refuse to write a sequel, Olivia).
This is why I have sleeping issues. My characters? Yeah, they’re attention hogs.
But it’s okay. I’ll have something to thank them for someday.