When I can shower words into my notebook, I’m in the moment. There’s nothing but a menage a trois of pen, paper and me. The characters do as they will, the setting comes alive. I’m lost in an ecstasy of words, descriptions and dialogue.

Then, when the writing is done and I come down from my high, there’s this uplifting afterglow. I’m wearing a perpetual smile, there’s an extra bounce in my step and spicier pitch to my giggle.

Writing does nothing for my groin (well, maybe it depends on what kind of scene I’m writing), but it does so much for my mind. So incredibly much for my soul.

I have to wonder, is that how Hemmingway felt when he wrote? Is that how Van Gogh felt when creating his paintings? How Michelangelo felt when he created the Statue of David?