It is finally happening. This writing bug is shifting in me. I have always been susceptible to restlessness. I get bored easily, with everything, including myself, but it is more than that. It is an itchiness and a craving and a terror all in one. I distinctly remember watching Breakfast at Tiffany's for the first time and feeling a click at the phrase "the mean reds," as Holly describes them, "The mean reds are horrible. Suddenly you're afraid and you don't know what you're afraid of. Do you ever get that feeling?"
Yes, Holly, yes I do, and it usually means that good things are coming, if I can just harness that energy and push a little further and dare to peek behind the curtain of doubt that sometimes plagues me.
So, this book. This book that is less than 10 days away from completion... it is growing in me. It is causing me to drift out of conversations and stare a little harder and sit a little longer. It is an obsession. I am in the lovesick throes of a romance that takes more than it gives, and I can already see it taking me somewhere new; somewhere that causes my knees to wobble a bit and my shoulders to hunch at the idea of it. I am ready and I am scared and I am jumping anyway.
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