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Woke up this morning at four a.m. and lay in bed thinking, what’s wrong? I feel odd…

Finally realized why: my work is done. By which I mean that I have now edited and proofed three books, one 140-page magazine and one 164-page conference guide. My to-do list has the lovely words, “Send Invoices” and then…only creative deadlines. How can that be? It’s been so long since I’ve had an open schedule that I’m unsure what to do with it. Of course, in my inbox this morning, the possibility of three more assignments, which is wonderful, but also a reminder of how short this time is to write creatively, how much I want to hold onto it and fill it with as much as I can.

I worry, sometimes, when I’m in a stretch like this, that I’ve forgotten how to write fiction. Or poems. Or essays even. That when I go back to my novel-in-progress that it will look like so much clutter and I will be unable to find my back to my characters.  Which is why I’m blogging right now, I think…gearing myself up for that leap back into the world that I love so much..

On a side note, I’ve been addicted to humor lately, perhaps because of the past weekend, so filled with mirth that I am still craving its ecstatic touch, or perhaps just because I feel like I’ve been working my ass off lately. But here’s what I’ve been watching, over and over: (put your headphones on if you’re in public, yes?)