I have peace about the decisions I’ve made and that in itself is an answer to prayer. I wake up on fire to write. I spend my day hours finding snippets of time to write, and I can’t wait to curl up in bed with my laptop before falling asleep. It’s a weird feeling I haven’t experienced since high school. This overwhelming urge, burning need to write, write, write.
I think about the children’s book I wrote last night. Provocative and to the point I hope. I think about the young adult novel I’m writing that I hope to make into a series. I think about the two articles I wrote yesterday, here and there as I pieced together time to write them. Articles I never knew were in me to write. I think about the pages of story and movie ideas I have and how the ideas keep coming. I think I’ll burst if I don’t write.
I think I am a writer.