When I was a child I wrote stories out of sheer love. Filling endless notebooks with my ideas was my absolute favorite thing in the world, and how I spent my time when I wasn't reading.

What happened? How did I manage to turn such a joyful activity into an exhausting slog?

Sometimes I have to turn myself around and go back to being the child who loved nothing better than writing.

Today I'm writing in a notebook instead of on the laptop (although my handwriting is nearly illegible). So far it's just character blurbs but I hope it becomes more soon. 

I need to find that joyful abandon again, to fall in love with my characters and their issues and their story instead of constantly chewing them over in my brain. I need to sit with them and let them talk instead of cramming them into a box that fits the series. 

"Whatever you do, do it wholeheartedly, as if you were doing it for the Lord and not for others..."  -- Colossians 3:23