Listen closely, and I’ll let you in on a secret. Scoot your chair in close, and focus on this. Eliminate all distractions, and pay attention. When you’re prepared, read on.
Writing is an addiction. It’s true. Gasp in surprise, raise your eyebrows in skepticism, but know that I tell you the truth. It’s a thrill, limited to the select few who know the feeling of successfully putting brilliance into words. Exhilarating. The satisfaction of seeing sentences formed and perfect, and knowing they came from your fingertips.
Now, I don’t make the colossal claim of being an excellent writer. I don’t even make the high claim of being a good one. But I would like to think that I am one of the privileged few who have discovered the prize that writing can become.
Sure, it’s an addiction. Sure, my eyes have funny little black things under them. Sure, sometimes life passes by while I’m mulling over prodigious versus monumental. Sure, there’s homework and friends and responsibilities that I’ll have to tend to later. But hey. I’ve been writing. So who cares.