A lot of writers live inside their heads. I know I sure do. I create wonderful worlds where everyone lives in harmony or tragic ones where people kill and maim and burn. I set people up to fall in love then make them fall out of love in such a sad way that I occasionally question my own sanity. And that all happens on the drive to my daughter’s school and back in the morning.
Sometimes these stories are happily played out in my head as I go about my life and I’m content to simply release them again, untold. Other times, I feverishly scribble ideas on notebooks or clumsily type on my phone. My favorite is when I’m near my laptop and I can open a Word document and get a quick story synopsis or outline typed up before I forget.
I’m always afraid I’m going to forget. I have notes in so many places now. I have notes still in my head with a little mental “Don’t Forget” label firmly affixed. But I do forget. If it’s really important, it usually comes back to me when I’m near a writable surface.
One thing I wish I could forget is the number of days it’s been once I’ve submitted a manuscript. It’s like torture to wait. I’m ready for it to be over. This is so much harder than the first time. I care about this story so much more.
Editing. Yes. I need to get back to editing book three in this trilogy, but that’s really hard when I’m not sure they even want book one.
Maybe I’ll just pour another cup of coffee and share the rest of the morning outside of my head and have a good, solid conversation with my husband. That sounds like a lovely plan.
