I woke up at 4:30 a.m. this morning. My mind was racing. With sentence structures and word choices. Literally.
I believe if I looked up the symptoms they would indicate some kind of obsessive compulsion. But for the time being I’m just going to pretend it’s a good thing. Because I’m in the final throes of editing and rewriting my second novel and all this brain crunching is actually working for me.
I had no idea I’d ever get to this point. I could not have predicted that over two years ago I would be here now–waking up before sunrise to quietly get up, put on the coffee, let Pig out, and happily get to work on my own words.
This enthusiasm is a heady emotion. I have trouble turning it off, tuning it out. But I wouldn’t give it up for the world.
In the meantime, I just read a blog post about a published author that reads quite depressing. She’s successful, yet not. It’s striking to read that on the same day I realized I was so excited about writing that I couldn’t sleep.
It’s all so personal. Today, I am grateful for my own journey.