It’s the best feeling ever. It’s how you feel when a baby wraps its tiny, tender fingers around your pinkie. It’s like the feel you get when you’re in your loved one’s arms. It’s fuzzy, it’s great, and it’s intoxicating. It’s infectiously good. Hours or days or years could’ve passed, but it doesn’t matter. When I’m doing what I love doing, nothing else matters. It’s like I can remake myself, in a new way every other time. It’s a rebirth.
That’s how I feel when I write.