I am writing fiction again after an incredibly long hiatus of, what, three months. In the big scheme of things that does not seem like such a long time but it is a very long time indeed to go without doing the work I need to do in order to be who I am!
This week, in addition to working and trying to act like I care at least a little bit about my life, I have been working on a new story. I have written more than thirteen thousand words in less than a week. When you consider that, in addition, I managed to write a couple of blog posts along the way, the output is more along the lines of my initial output three years ago when I started this new phase of fiction writing.
I am inspired and excited. I am also tired. I would love to quit for the day because I've been up since 5:00 a.m. and have been writing a great deal of that time (with interruptions for going to the beach and walking for two hours then walking for another hour plus around the neighborhood, helping DH put up the pool and watching the NASCAR race).
I am home alone tonight, and feel the need to take advantage of the quiet.
Lord, I am happy when I am writing. (But then, again, I'm pretty happy most of the time no matter what I do.)