The past six years have been a journey of writing for me, working on my first novel and hiding out in the back bedroom so no one would know what I was up to all the way to attending the Pacific Northwest Writers Conference where I met my fantastic agent, Carolyn Swayze. Some days it seems to have happened so fast I'm afraid to blink in case I miss something. Other days I'm full of impatience, waiting for the next step, urging the process to hurry up.
And still there are other days where I wonder what the hell I'm doing, how could anyone think a goober like me could be a writer? I think I need the flashes of immaturity, they take away the anxiety. For instance, today I figured out where the quad keys were hidden, started the Beast up and proceeded to tear up and down the road with my Ipod on nice and loud. The new ruts in the road are a particular mark of pride for me.
So I guess what I'm trying to say is, if you have writing related stress, find a nice, immature activity and that should shake all the anxiety write, I mean right out of you. Have fun, take a breather and steal your husbands quad. If nothing else, you'll have to come up with a good story for the appearance of burnouts, branch scratches on your face and the windswept look of your hair.