I'm helping a friend move into her winter home here this week. She's a writer too and invariably our conversations turn to sentence structure, plot and punctuation. We can't roll our carts through Sam's without commenting on something related to writing. Even now, she is reading something she wrote while I think about how to edit the final pages of my book one so I can move on and finish the other two.
What is it about writers that we get so caught up in our work? In our passion? In what we hope God intends for us to do?
I keep a notepad by my bedside for those late-night inspiring thoughts that I am certain will be lost by morning.
I underline everything I read in books and drive my daughter nuts when I then give her the book to read.
I can't wait for a quiet moment when I can immerse myself back into my characters.
Is this the writing life?
I sure hope so because I don't see if going away any too soon. It's as good as that last drop of vanilla yogurt with whipped cream on top.