Am I a Writing Junkie?
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Ahhhh. I’m writing again. I know it’s only a blog post, but I haven’t written anything but a quick email in the last week. My ex-wife injured herself in a freak dog walking accident (I know, right?), so I’ve been spending nights over at her place to help her and the boys, days at my new job, and in between running errands. Right now, my ex is in the hospital recovering from surgery. I actually have a few minutes to myself, so here I am at the keyboard.
Ahhhh. I’m writing again. I know it’s only a blog post, but I haven’t written anything but a quick email in the last week. My ex-wife injured herself in a freak dog walking accident (I know, right?), so I’ve been spending nights over at her place to help her and the boys, days at my new job, and in between running errands. Right now, my ex is in the hospital recovering from surgery. I actually have a few minutes to myself, so here I am at the keyboard.
It feels good. It’s nice to watch the words
crawl across the page, bringing coherence to the random and often
uncontrollable thoughts rattling around in my brain. The light touch of my
fingers on the keys is soothing, not like the harsh banging I tend to do when I’m
entering data into the computer at work. I’ve missed this. In fact, I’ve come
to need it. Without out it I find myself nervous and anxious, irritable and
testy with my friends and loved ones. I’ve become a writing junkie.
How did it happen? I’ve written off-and-on
most of my life without experiencing these withdrawal symptoms. But a few years
ago, when I started the Red Wolf Novels project, I began writing at least a
couple of hours almost every day. I developed a tolerance. I needed more writing
- more often. I had to visit with my characters, see what they were up to, what
they would do next. I started to neglect my other responsibilities and other
relationships. I told myself they weren’t as important as my characters. The
story had to be written. It wouldn’t let me go.
When I published the first novel, I made new
friends, readers who liked the book and wanted to know more about the story of
the Red Wolf. I had new responsibilities, readers and reviewers to correspond
with, books to read and review myself, a blog to keep up, more writing to do.
My old friends and family, my old dreams, all fell by the wayside. Writing became
my raison d’être. Nothing else mattered.
I carried my laptop with me wherever I went.
I began to frequent coffee shops, where I could find an isolated corner to sip
and write for hours on end. Sleeping and eating (okay – maybe I’m going a
little far with that one) became inconveniences. As my other interests fell by
the wayside, I went through the motions in the real world. I was only truly
alive when I was writing.
Then, a few weeks ago, my life became truly
unmanageable. My laptop started shutting down on me at random times. I started
a full-time day job, leaving me less time at the coffee shops. I got frustrated
and irritable. I began losing sleep. Finally, my son called me last week with, “They
took Mama away in an ambulance. Can you come stay with me?” I almost said no.
There was no way I could stay at my ex-wife’s house and write. It would be the
end of me.
But it was my son.
I guess there was a spark of humanity left
in me after all. I rose to the occasion. I put the writing aside. I resolved to
do whatever it took. I haven’t written for over a week… until now.
Has this crisis been a wake-up call? Has it
taken a freak accident and a pitiful plea from my little boy to save me from my
addiction?
Naaaaah. I’m okay. I just needed a little
break. I’m back now. The beta readers will soon send in their results and Ray
and Rich will soon have the covers for The
Dragon of Doughton Park ready. And the outline for the third Red Wolf
novel, Red Wolf Rising, is nearly
fleshed out. I’m not yet ready to quit.
If you want to take the plunge and join me
in my addiction, check out one of the links below.
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