My little guy had a dental procedure this morning that meant he couldn't eat breakfast. In a show of solidarity (a stupid, stupid show), I skipped my morning coffee. Seriously, you would not have liked me. Grrrr.
It's not 3:30 in the afternoon and I just had my first sip. Bliss!
I know there are people who are addicted to drugs (I've never even tried them), alcohol (less than once a month, I have a sip of wine or a margarita with a Mexican dinner), or other things (my husband's little Xbox problem, perhaps?).
But for me, it's always been coffee. The smell and taste bring me back to my childhood, sipping coffee milk on the front porch swing. Coffee says home to me. Coffee shops are my favorite places to be.
Writing is starting to feel the same way. A surge of happy, combined with a boost of energy. It doesn't matter if I am drafting the next great novel or doodling a flower in my planner next to my grocery list. I crave it. I must write. (By the next great novel, what I mean is pretty please let someone be willing to publish it. Pretty please.)
When did this happen? How did this happen?
All I know is that since it did, I don't have to plan to work on writing on my task list. I just do it, pretty much every day.
What gets done every day, due to love and enthusiasm, instead of planning? What is your addiction?