Okay, I'm hitting that point. The point I forgot about since the last time I wrote a novel.
Obsessive Introversion.
My social life outside family is the beginning. The phone becomes the enemy and email, its sidekick. My laptop is out to get me, starting with torture of slowness. It doesn't matter just days ago I was fine with its speed.
Meals? Breaks? Why do I need these things? Are they vital to my survival?...Prove it!
No, no. The only thing that can keep me company happily right now is my novel. Thank goodness I have an understanding and independent family. Plus, they know when to tie me up, strip me of my laptop, and sit me at the table for dinner and family time afterwards. To ensure I stay, they usually pick a sci-fi flick or science documentary.
Good writing all!
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