My
name is K. S. Daniels and it's been 1 day since I've last written. I was doing
good for a while-teaching at the university and only writing academically. But
I fell off the wagon about a year and a half ago.
At first, I was just writing
in my free time. It was like a hobby and they say hobbies are good for recovering
writers. Well anyway, it just kept getting worse. I was writing in the morning
before I lectured, doing it in the office on my lunch break. Sometimes I'd stay
up all night writing, revising, and even editing. Before I knew it, it was like
the old days again. The swift clicking of the keys, the gentle pressure on my
fingertips as I released each one, the steady stream words consuming every inch
of the page-what a rush!
I can't stop. It's too late for me now, they say.
Might as well let me write myself to death. It's ok though. One day they'll
find me: hunched over my desk, fingers poised-as if ready to strike down the
next words. Maybe they'll shake their heads and say, "What a waste".
But
I wouldn't have it any other way.
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