It has been said by fancy scientist that it takes us - more specifically - our noggins - 21 days to form a habit or break one. But it exercising, smoking or yes even this 5-minutes-I still-am-in-bed-but-I-forgot-the-last-two-days and now I feel I feel pings of guilt. Writing is like any other work, you have good days and bad days. The point is to keep doing it and with writer's psyche where the constant fear of failure and self-doubt loom like ominous little clouds above your head continuously - it can prove difficult. But I keep going, moving forward into the uncharted territory of what it's going to take to get this completed. And I am doing all because honestly, it's time to do it for me. I am becoming slightly OCD about writing and the crafting of my tale. But I am remembering those 21-days and I know as addicted as I think I am now, this whole thing may even be worse than smoking.
*curtsies to John, runs off back to my little cave*