As long as I was allowed to choose my own bedtime (sometime during my sophomore or junior year in high school), I’ve been a night owl.  There is something about the dark that makes me come alive, and something about a bright, sunny day that makes me want to curl up under the covers and read or sleep.  

Lately, writing ideas and characters have been waking me up at night.  Ideas that run through my head and make my heart pound so much that I’d toss and turn if I knew it wouldn’t wake Adam.  Nothing solid yet, just characters and fleeting plot lines.

I’ve been reading like crazy.  Letting authors inspire me with the way they put together words and craft stories.  Some nights I burst out of bed and get to the laptop, slap down 1500 words or so, but then the next morning, decide that it’s not good enough.

I read my old writing, picking and choosing the stuff that sounds good to recycle, and I shake my head at some of it, silently mouthing “What was I thinking when I wrote that?”  

I miss the writing community.  I want to get involved again.  I met my husband because of writing.  I can also realize some of my other dreams because of it.

I have the time now, so it’s time to finally focus.  If I want to eventually make a living off of this, I need to treat this as a job.  But I still want to enjoy it.  I’ve gotten so far before–I can’t let the disappointment in the nonsale of my first ever submitted novel hold me back anymore.  It’s been years.  GET OVER IT.  I need to stop navel gazing so much and WRITE, dammit.  No matter how hard it might be, just GET IT WRITTEN.

No more excuses.  Just do it. 

Swift kicks in the butt will be greatly welcomed.

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