It’s 12:39 am and I’m bleary eyed, walking the tightrope between anticipation and intimidation.
I know it’s time. It’s time to write.
That story that caresses my mind, waiting just below the surface of my awareness.
I feel it—the story.
I know the characters.
I see flickers of their trying and triumphant moments.
I can feel the plot, sense the way it will cary my heartbeat from scene to scene—moving me, toying with me, as if the only reason I live is to create and devour fantasy.
My mind races at the thought of what I’ll build…the endless nights I’ll pour myself dry just to give life to the worlds I explore in my mind.
And love—and betrayal and mystery. I’ll write the pieces of me I can’t explore in this reality.
But I know it already exists.
Somewhere, brewing in my subconscious, every detail awaits the command of my focused intention. I see these novels in my visions. Tangible manifestations of my dreams, resting beneath my fingertips…
So I remind myself, it’s time.
I know it is. Time to dive a little deeper into the realm between dimensions, to fetch those characters beckoning for my undivided attention.
This is a game of trust and intuition. Unbridled faith that I can persevere, I can do this.
Today, I begin.
PS: “WIP” stands for “work in progress”, for those who are wondering!