I’ve been stealing time from my family, ignoring my friends, and locking myself away at lunch every day again. My wife knows what’s up, I’ve got another writing bug. I’ve promised myself 500 words per day but I find myself with well over a thousand before I know what’s happening. Even the mooshy middle of my story is exciting, because it’s not mooshy. Solid. Stable. I’m not doing time at the keyboard, I’m on vacation while I’m here. This is the sweet spot, and I’m riding high.