For about a week now, I've been better, so much so I could gets several things done. I even started walking again and today I walked .7 of a mile. Although it was difficult, I pushed ahead and did it.
Why can't I do that with my writing?
This isn't a hobby so much as a necessity. This is my voice, putting words onto paper or the computer screen. If I lose that, I will lose my voice and who I am becomes meaningless.
The emotional connection to writing is as strong as any love you will ever experience. The passion of shaping a world, creating a character, describing the sunset is as powerful as that first kiss. The first time I wrote a story I was in the 8th grade. It was a class assignment but when my friend read it and raved about it, there was this amazing feeling that I can't begin to explain. When I was a couple of years older, I started a novel and that feeling grew. Now, each story is a new relationship filled with excitement to discover what happens next.
Of course, after you finish a story the real work of the relationship starts. Sometimes I wonder if that it why I struggle to finish my stories. I don't want the passion to die. I want to keep that fire in the belly and the excitement of discovery. Finishing it will mean the relationship is over.
Today, as I sit here and shape this post into something someone might actually find interesting, I'm itchy to write because I have a story only a few thousand words shy of done. I am going to finish it. I could be done this week. Just the thought of that makes my heart speed up a bit and knots twist in my stomach. You'd think I had some special man at the front door. I don't. I have a story waiting for me to finish it, to make it a living breathing thing to send out into the world and give someone pleasure.
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