Anyway, so I've been nervous to embark on a new conception (if you will). I feared I wouldn't love it as much as my first book. I feared I wouldn't love my characters as much as my first characters. (I feared I had reached the pinnacle of my typing proficiency) But, I've had an idea brewing in my head for the last four months. I had even written a page long summary of it, so that I wouldn't forget. So, on Wednesday, to reward myself for finishing my series ... I wrote the first chapter of my new book. (only a writer would consider that a reward). And I haven't stopped writing since. Today I reached 12,500 words. I am in love with my new book. It surprised me in a wonderful way. Since I'm comparing this to having children, why stop with the analogy? Why did I think that writing another book would make me love my first book less? Why did I think that I didn't have enough love to share with another book? I have enough love. And I love my new book!!! I'm so excited. (I challenge each and every one of you to a type off. Warning, before you accept this challenge, you might want to take note that my entire four books consist of the sentence "the quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog" over and over again. You're having second thoughts, aren't you?)
Yes, it's official, I'm weird. You all knew it, now it's been firmly verified.