i've been in a writing coma for the last twenty four hours.
in that time, i've managed to fall into a deep hibernation where the only things that exist in my brain
are the solitude of a word document open in front of me and my work station beside me containing
one full mug of tea, post it notes jotted with lines, quotes, and characters, and little goodies such as cinnamon rolls and goldfish crackers.
i'm on page 26. have i ever written anything that long in my life before? absolutely not.
have i ever been more excited about the potential of a story i've written before? absolutely not.
do i feel like my brain is turning to 'moosh' and everything i'm writing is becoming worthless? completely.
but the most important question of all?
do i love this hair brained process of hashing out a story that's lived in my head for weeks? do i love having brain funks where writer's block makes me want to give up and leave me curled in bed crying? do i love the breakthrough moments when everything makes sense and three pages are written in an hour? do i love this more than six biology tests and reading textbook after textbook about reaction mechanisms in organic chemistry? do i love the routine of writing without a routine?