And it's almost eleven already.
So, I've completed the first several pages of my foray into the world of literary publication. It may not seem like much, but what I'm doing and what I'm planning to do is everything that I've ever wanted to do - I hope that's all that matters.
Writing wipes me out. I don't realize it at the time. It's only after I've forced myself to stop that I realize just how much of me I've put down on paper. My creative process starts from the moment that I get out of bed in the morning, and I allow inspiration to hit me at all levels of my daily life. Too bad I waited this late to post. My eyes can barely stay open, and I'm not sure that I'll even muster up the energy to open Night Shift and conquer one of those very short stories before I succumb successfully to sleep.
Best not to leave this post hanging in wait.
More tomorrow.
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