The computer is coming with me to my parents’ house for Thanksgiving. This is how I know I’ve become attached to my book idea. I’m thinking in terms like this: two hours on the train each way means four hours of writing. Even if I don’t write a word in between, that alone is a good chunk of time.
So I’m really off and running. Committed like never before. Excited to be feeling so passionate about a writing project. I have a phenomenal support system — a testament to my good taste in friends.
And my ego … well, that’s kicking in, too. For me that’s always been a part of the process. When I was a sports writer and columnist for a newspaper, every so often I’d write a piece I felt so keyed up about that I had to get the paper first thing in the morning and see it in print. Even after hundreds of bylines, sometimes there was nothing like that one article I was proud of from start to finish and seeing it in print made it real. There is no other rush quite like it.
Isn’t this how we know we’re gifted in a particular area? The rush? The juice?