I love it when you read your own story and get so caught up in it that you forget it's yours. You forget that you've read it a hundred times over and you already know what's coming; that you can probably recite the dialogue verbatim without even reading what's on the page. It's moments like that when I know I'm doing the right thing, not just in my writing, but by writing. It's the one place in the world that belongs to me. The rest is just window dressing--the things that fill up my time and making the longing to write full-time even stronger.
I have found over the years that I can fit in and adapt to most situations. But writing is the only place I feel truly at home. It's what gets me out of bed in the morning and makes me look forward to the next day. There are other things in my life that I love, but this--the writing--that's the part that fills me with passion. That's the part that makes me realize I was meant to do this and not doing it would be living a lie.
I think I've always known that deep inside. When I didn't write there was always a part of me missing, an empty space that couldn't be filled no matter what I did. I'm glad I found my way back, that I decided to take hold of this with both hands and hang on for the rest of the ride. I can't quite imagine what my life would have been like if I didn't make that decision. The picture is rather fuzzy and not all that appealing. I like this one much better.