This is the first time in my entire life, since I decided in the seventh grade that I wanted to be a writer, that I have written consistently every night for a week. I didn’t even write this consistently when I was writing my dissertation.
My novel is clipping along. Something truly astonishing happened tonight. I cried when writing about one of my characters. She is alive for me now, and I feel more compelled than ever to tell her story, which is no longer my story, but now belongs entirely to her.