Maybe I’m addicted,
I’m out of control,
but you’re the drug
that keeps me from dying.
Maybe I’m a liar,
but all I really know is
you’re the only reason I’m trying.

–Enrique Iglesias, Addicted

I think I’m addicted and I’m so freaking excited about it that I can barely contain myself. No, it’s not wine. No, not drugs. I haven’t started smoking again and this chocolate thing is just a phase, honest, I can quit anytime I want.

I’m writing a book! For real, I’m actually doing it this time. And I can’t stop. It’s all I think about and all I want to do and I dream in scenes every night and I add new words to blank pages every day and I show people drafts and they like it and want to see more. I am freaking out! My writing drive hasn’t been like this since 2000. The only difference is that back then I didn’t have the skills I have now. I was lacking in some very basic elements. So not everything I wrote was crap, there were nuggets, but overall I wrote a collection of unpublishable short stories. This time I’m writing something I think is fit for print. And I’m excited by the process and loving the adrenaline rush.

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