I love being a writer. I do. It’s like having some sort of super power. Ok, as super powers go, it’s not very high on the scale. I mean, I can’t leap tall buildings in a single bound or stop a speeding bullet. And I can’t read minds, although, I do hear my fair share of voices in my head. And I may not have the power of invisibility, but in the middle of the night, as I dash around my darkened house in my underwear, I pretend I do.
But I guess, in all fairness to myself, as a writer, I have any power I want at my disposal. I can time travel to avoid kissing all the wrong boys, and be sure I kiss all the right ones. I literally have the world at my fingertips. It’s a wonderful place to live. Even better when you don’t have to live there all alone.
I’ve spent the past few days working with one of my favorite editors. We’ve been going back and forth between our respective projects and it feels a bit like Superman joining the Justice League. There is strength in numbers…and all that ultimate power crap. When we join forces, it’s like magic.
Yeah, my metaphors are silly, but it’s the best way I can describe it. I’m so lucky to have someone to bounce ideas off of. It makes all the brilliance of me seem that much brighter. And she seems to think the same way.
So if I appear distracted, just chalk it up to saving the world from split infinitives and dangling participles and I’ll be back when the words are a safer place.
Until the next time…I’ll be writing.