Writing is a solitary act, one that can be confused with being a crazed hermit or grumpy bear. At least that is what goes on in my house. When I go into my writing “cave” the other members of my family push crumbs of sustenance under the door and hold conversations from the hallway. It may be that after several hours of typing my glazed eyes scare them a little, but I am at peace with it. (Totally kidding about the crumb pushing by the way). When I write, I immerse myself completely into the world I am creating, often losing track of time and sense of place. It reminded me of a song I love by Wilson Phillips – In My Room.
Sitting in front of my laptop, is very much like traveling to the world they describe. A safe place where I can air out my thoughts and secrets. Not that anything I write is kept secret for long mind you, as it ends up either on the internet or for sale on Amazon – but you get my drift.
For me, writing requires a clutter-free space, a droning fan to buffer outside noises and a large chunk of uninterrupted time. Not even the hunger pangs are enough to remove me from my perch. The final edits on Sea of Dreams took 3 days, and when I finally joined the rest of the human race, it was with the knowledge that I had completed something monumental in my life. Something that I could be extremely proud of. It was well worth the pains in my back and the cramps in my fingers, and continues to be as I finish the series. Now…where was I? Oh yes…I remember now…in my room!
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