First of all, I feel really good this morning. Last night, I had one beer in the evening before my husband came home. At dinner, he poured me a glass of red and I just didn't drink it. Oddly, I didn't want it. After dinner, we curled up on the couch and watched some absolutely vapid and delicious television. I fell asleep on his shoulder. And this morning, my head is clear and I feel energized. Full of ideas. I'm about to dive into writing my novel. But I wanted to check in here first. I have been thinking this morning about secrecy. About how it is built into the writing process. About how instinct often tells us not to reveal our ideas (too soon) or our stories. I think secrecy also plays an elusive role in drinking. Drinking, it seems to me, is something we don't freely talk about. Why is this? Shame? Fear of judgment? Plain old denial?
Anyway. I am still keeping this project secret for now. My ideas are still arriving. I am still sifting through them. I think a little (or not so little) part of me is worried that I will not actually follow through with this.
Okay, off to spend some time with my newest characters. I miss them.