I've just started working on a new project. It's all so strange and yet so familiar; the euphoric dread in the pit of your stomach as you approach the keyboard, knowing that normal life as you know it will effectively come to a halt the moment you type in '1', as in, the first chapter.

I started typing and typing and typing. And then, I stopped - because my stomach was growling so much and so loudly I feared I would be physically ill if I didn't eat. Yes, that's familiar. Not eating. Not doing anything except living and breathing this fictional world I'm weaving that has somehow, inexplicably and magically found its way to my computer screen.

My wrists are beginning to hurt. That is also familiar. But I will not stop because now I've started, I cannot and will not stop. Ah, the obsession with the story. That is familiar, as familiar as the curling distaste that will follow when I reach the inevitable writing plateau that is sure to come.

Writing. It's been a great summer. But it's good to be back and shackled to the keyboard.