Writing is a seriously dangerous business.
Once it’s in your blood, you’ve had it. There is no escaping that irresistable urge. Take it a step further and you’re in even more trouble… Start thinking up a specific article, a story. Before you know it, your entire brain downs tools to get involved.
Forget normal life – work deadlines, hungry children… a pot on the stove. It all fades into the background while your WIP dances centrestage in the auditorium of your mind. Until it is finished / edited / polished and emailed, it becomes the hub around which the rest of live revolves.
A novel is even worse. That puts your life on hold for months, sometimes years at a time. The characters come alive in your head with such force that instead of sleeping, you watch movies of the next chapter that kick in the moment your head hits that pillow. The world in your head is stunning in its technicolour brilliance, while reality looks on bleakly with nothing to say.
It doesn’t end once it’s emailed off to some editor / agent / publisher. Then the email addiction kicks in. It doesn’t matter that there was no response 2 minutes ago, maybe if I check again there’ll be an email waiting for me. You never know, you know.
So friends. Please tell me I’m not alone.