I am exhausted. A part of my mind is telling me the logical answer. "Go finish your homework and then do your devotions, and then go to sleep."
But then there's that part of me- that Writer part.
The part that says- "You can't decide whether to do your homework or edit your novel. Here's a great idea; do neither. Write a blog that probably no one will ever read."
Yeah. Obviously that part won out.
And yet- I'm still trying to convince myself that I do not need to edit my novel. That my goal to finish in October was an unrealistic and unnecessary one. That there is no law telling me that I must write a novel in a year. And yet.
I can feel the Whisperers pulling me, and the notebook on my lap with the vocabulary words I am supposed to be looking up- yeah, that's doing nothing.
I need to write.
The feeling is consuming me at the moment, and even the flashing lights that look just as tired as I feel can't stop the obsession that's practically tearing me apart. I have to give in. I don't have any choice, not anymore.
Homework will have to wait- because the Shadow will give me no rest.
I will have my voice heard.
Perhaps my greatest motivation right now is the thought that the sooner I finish Shadow Whispers, the sooner I get to start on Shadow Remnants, and then on to the next book and then the next book and the next and the next, and on and on for who knows how many more nights that I should be sleeping and am not because the Shadow is calling to me again and my fingers are tapping like wild animals and I cannot sleep and I cannot rest
and
I
will
write.
But then there's that part of me- that Writer part.
The part that says- "You can't decide whether to do your homework or edit your novel. Here's a great idea; do neither. Write a blog that probably no one will ever read."
Yeah. Obviously that part won out.
And yet- I'm still trying to convince myself that I do not need to edit my novel. That my goal to finish in October was an unrealistic and unnecessary one. That there is no law telling me that I must write a novel in a year. And yet.
I can feel the Whisperers pulling me, and the notebook on my lap with the vocabulary words I am supposed to be looking up- yeah, that's doing nothing.
I need to write.
The feeling is consuming me at the moment, and even the flashing lights that look just as tired as I feel can't stop the obsession that's practically tearing me apart. I have to give in. I don't have any choice, not anymore.
Homework will have to wait- because the Shadow will give me no rest.
I will have my voice heard.
Perhaps my greatest motivation right now is the thought that the sooner I finish Shadow Whispers, the sooner I get to start on Shadow Remnants, and then on to the next book and then the next book and the next and the next, and on and on for who knows how many more nights that I should be sleeping and am not because the Shadow is calling to me again and my fingers are tapping like wild animals and I cannot sleep and I cannot rest
and
I
will
write.
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