I don’t have insomnia, I promise. What I do have is a writing problem. When I finally get to lay down at night and pull my blanket up to my neck, my brain kicks into high gear.
Before I started writing this is the time of day when I would wonder if Johnny liked me too or worry about a test coming up.
But since I’ve become a writer it’s turned into a different kind of worry. I worry how I’m going to get Moriah Grimaldi to save the world from the apocalypse and rescue the boy she loves. I worry about how I’m going to give her a character arc yet still surprise my reader with a plot twist.
I worry about fictional things, things that just don’t exist and yet in my world, they do. Because Rodalia, Roxanne and Moriah are all a part of me. Small bits of my soul. And the boys they fall in love with, I fall in love with too. After all how could I not just adore the guys that have come into “existence” because of my romantic fantasies?
Usually after half an hour of worrying I get a pang of inspiration. I usually feel like I’ve just found the cure for cancer or solved the mystery of space. It’s sheer brilliance in that moment and I become convinced that if I don’t write it right there, right then, I’ll never be able to remember it again.
And I’ve been writing long enough to know that’s absolutely true.
Because being a writer means being a slave to your craft. When inspiration calls you have to answer it, or risk losing it all together.
Consequently my sleep schedule has been erratic which makes it hard to wake up in the morning and take care of my responsibilities.
But as much as a pain in the tush it can be, I’m so thankful that I have a passion I can be a slave to. I’m thankful that I don’t have to worry about Johnny or tests anymore, but that I can create characters I become so invested in they don’t disappear when I close my laptop.
So my fellow writers out there, hold strong during the late hours, all nighters, and double shots of espresso. Just know your hard labor will pay off when you finally publish your masterpiece.