At the moment, I’m completely wired; like I’ve drunk tonnes of cans of Red Bull. I’ve been working into the wee small hours on a piece of work for the past few weeks and finally it’s time to send my baby off into the world.
Before the fear begins as I wait for a response, I’m just so hyper that I’ve got it finished. Exhausted but hyper.
This would seem like a good time to have a rest, get lost in someone else’s books (reading is my favourite leisure activity), but instead I’ll get stuck into writing something else because this is the best time to write: when you’re psyched up by what you believe is work well done and haven’t had a no. Yet.
Leave the writing to a time when it feels like all you’ve been doing is getting doors slammed in your face and told you're not worthy, and it will be like trying to go the wrong way up an escalator.
