I truly am amazed how quickly the time goes by. Amazed by how little is actually getting done, no matter my intentions. I'm annoyed by it too. It seems like there is something new, something more to do everyday and everyday I want to do those things less and less. The stories, no, the characters - these fully rounded, animated, alive people - are inside my mind practically begging and screaming to get out and I can barely find the time to answer my e-mail. There are times that the frustration, the irritation of it actually hurts.
And maybe that's not a good thing.
I did mention that I was crazy once, didn't I?
There are so many things I have to do everyday but the only thing I want to do right now is write. And I don't have the time - life is just in the way (for now) and every time I think I've managed to arrange things so that I can eke out an hour for my work, something else pops up and I have to turn away from the stories. From the characters.
And I fear...
What will I do if, after not being able to write for so long at a time, for having to ignore the voices - the characters - for so long, what if when I can finally turn back to my writing and there's nothing left for me to tell? What if the characters and the stories leave me with nothing to say?