Ladies, I have a confession to make. One I thought I’d never make. It’s hard to admit too because I once was one of those. You know the type, one of the people who looked down upon someone with my affliction. In fact, going back to my very first blog, I bragged I’d never be like that, but you see I am.
Yes, I’m an addict. I used to be only guilty of now and then partaking, a few times a month, maybe once a week, but not that much, not really. Maybe it was a bit of a hobby, not an addiction, besides it didn’t cost me too much either. But now, I can hardly get out of bed without indulging…and sometimes I don’t even bother getting out of bed.
You guessed it. I am now sleeping with the laptop by my bed. Who knows when I might get the urge to change a plot twist, or develop a clever secondary character? Maybe I need to check my email to see if a certain publisher has emailed me back or I need to vote on a friend’s book cover. I carry my addiction with me everywhere. Only a few days ago I managed to edit three chapters while having my roots done.
Sometimes I try to get around things like cleaning, cooking, even exercising to find more time to write. Unfortunately, I have a day job that demands I show up five days out of seven. I have managed to write at work on break, during lunch, even after work because it is so quiet there after everyone goes home. Okay, I will admit when I’ve had a pressing deadline I’ve written on work hours glad that all my fellow workers need reading glasses to read what I am typing in 8 count font and glad that they’re vain enough not to wear them.
Writing has taken over my life. My thoughts dwell on how to promote CUB IN BLUE, my newest book, who to submit pitches to, and agents. Day trips and vacations center around writing workshops and conferences. Don’t get me started on the money I’ve spent.
As for my love life, I am very lucky to have a fiancé who entertains himself while I type. He smiles indulgently at me above his book. He doesn’t call me an addict, or a fool, or tell me I am wasting my time. Instead he tells me I am the best writer he knows. (Everyone should “ahh” about now.)
So yes ladies, I have only one more thing to say. My name is Morgan…and I am a writer.
How about you? Tell me your stories of obsession and addiction.