And now I'm free to write. How thrilling! How terrifying! No excuses, nothing in my way. Hope I can be a grown-up about this, rather than a kid in a candy story, munching everything in sight and making myself sick. The writerly equivalent would be writing a little bit of lots of things and finishing nothing. Or worse, thinking about writing lots of things and not actually doing it because I'm overwhelmed.
Trying to make goals, reasonable goals, for each day and each week. At the very least my adult SF novel will get finished, since I'm drafting chapter 18 now. The trick is to decide what other projects to work on.
Pretty nice problem to have, eh?
