Love and other drugs...

The last two days of marathon writing made me think of how when I am writing it's like an itch I can't quite get at. I feel very frustrated. So the only way to get rid of that frustration is... you've got it I write. Yesterday I got twenty pages written. Blame it on the rain or thank god for the rain... For more then one reason but because it rained and I didn't feel compelled to be outside. Today I got three pages done plus some editing. Found after yesterday's writing stint that I had just kept writing and hadn't marked my parts for chapter headings. The only thing I did do as I wrote was correct spelling which drives me crazy if I see the words underlined in red. Writing for me once the characters start taking shape is like a drug. I can't get enough, I need to write and everything takes a back seat. If my door is shut leave me a lone. I get extremely frustrated and yansy if I have to go do something else. I am really not there but off in my own little world that I have created. So for the sake of others and my self I really should get that bunch of writing out of the way. I tend to be flighty when writing so the kids can ask me just about anything and I will probably agree or snap their heads off. But real life also beckons and I have to do wash, food shop, take care of the house and kids. Cook that would be a good idea if we want to eat since I don't have a maid any longer. Life in Cambodia, not Camden Maine. So why did I title my post Love and other drugs? Love of writing, needing to get it done but the more I wrote yesterday the more I wanted to write. Usually the itch ends and I can get on with my daytime routine. Not yesterday. I didn't even want to read. I wanted to write and that's the way it was when I wrote the first book. I had days like that. I found it rewarding and exhausting.