For the past couple of weeks I’ve been hard at work. Every spare minute has been spent hunched over the keyboard, editing my manuscript. I’ve neglected this blog, Twitter, and the Internet in general, remaining oblivious to world events. There’s been no evening television with my husband, no watching Doctor Who on Netflix, no Pinterest. No nothing.
Then this past weekend I had no choice but to take a break. My mother-in-law came to visit for our daughter’s 13th birthday. We don’t see her often, so we stayed busy from morning until way late.
Several times I was struck with this odd sort of wistful, sad feeling. It took me a bit of time to figure out what it was: I missed my characters.
That can’t be normal. Right? I mean, these people aren’t real. How could I miss them? But there I was, wishing I could hang out with them instead of whatever else I was doing. Waiting for the weekend to be over so I could get back to them.
Have other writers ever experienced anything like this? I hope I’m not the only one. But I can’t ponder any longer. It’s time to sign off here so I can go play with my imaginary friends.
(Okay. Definitely not normal!)