Hello, novel, my old friend (Part III)

Last night, just as I was getting ready for bed, it hit me:
The overwhelming urge to work on one of my novels I’ve been tinkering on for the past decade.

So I fired up my old laptop, which took about a year to do, propped up my pillows and had at it – until the wee hours of the morning. As with every time before when I’ve worked on one of them in pseudo-recent times (which you can read about here and here if you so desire), the flow just started happening.

There was no struggle; there were just words that fit, characters that got a little more developed, more of an idea of where I wanted them to go, it was releasing for me, inspiring and just what I needed for my creativity.

With that writing came a new little goal: To work on the novel(s) at least twice a week from here on out.

I need to do it for myself – because long before I became a journalist, writing novels was my dream.
It still remains my dream, mind you, it’s just been relegated to one of those that’s up there with “buy a new car” or “take an exotic vacation” or something these days.

Well, not anymore. Besides, isn’t it about time I start creatively capitalizing on my ever-present insomnia?



About nikkimmascali

I am an editor, writer and New Yorker who has ink for blood and the blog name + tattoo to prove it. Also of note: I follow more dogs than people on Instagram. This is my blog about reading, writing and absolutely no 'rithmetic because I am horrendous at math.
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