Do you know the feeling you get when you finish reading an enjoyable book? If the book is well-written, the ending will be quite satisfying. But you have devoted hours, and probably days, to the story, and you feel sorry to see it end.
That's how I feel about my own work as well. Today I finished reading through Turbulence. Then I spent the rest of the day in limbo--not ready to commit yet to another story.
This blog was much longer, and probably more eloquent, but I accidentally deleted a couple of paragraphs. Deleting my work is worse than finishing it, of course. I have a few moments when I don't want to write at all--I don't trust my finger, the keypad, the computer.
Reading and writing are about so much more than words. They are reflections of life.
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