Writing isn't easy. It's like yanking a little piece of your heart out every time you craft characters and give them a life story. Or maybe it's more like Ariel vs. the sea witch. I'm sat in front of my computer, preparing to weave something new, and I feel the little aura of gold pulled slowly from my throat. Towards the computer screen, or towards paper if I'm going old-fashioned.
And, word by word, something I hope is worthy forms. And I know when the new world has come to an end, because my voice is gone. At least for a little while.
And then what happens? I trudge through life in a daze, trying to communicate like a human being instead of a reclusive author who'd rather hang with the people inside her head.