I have been writing a lot lately. Averaging about 10,000 words a day. Some days it goes as high as 12,000, others it dips down to 6,000 or so, but for the most part I’m just chugging away. I’ve been going full blast for perhaps four or five days now, and am about halfway through the novel. And something that’s never happened to me before is taking place: I’m so thoroughly engrossed in this book that I think of nothing else.

Maybe it’s unhealthy, but I wake up thinking about Zach and Twain and what’s going to happen next, I sit over my meals absently shoveling food into my mouth while pondering the latest scene I read, I lie in bed at night endlessly revolving the next steps about and about in my mind. I’ve done almost nothing else except eat and read since I really got started, and I’m almost worried about finishing. Stopping. Because… then what? What do people do with their time when they’re not writing? I’ve almost forgot.

Ah, now I remember. They wait. For feedback, for responses to queries, submissions, drafts sent to friend. Wait and tap their fingers and think about the next project. I’ve already got the next one lined up. Soon as I’m done with this one…