Somewhere in every one of my books, I get caught up in the characters and I need them to speak to me, to tell me their ending. That's a rough time in our household. The laundry sits a spell too long, the dinners are haphazard and worst of all...Mom isn't really present. You can tell this by the blank look on my face as you speak to me.
I feel for the children of authors. Their parent is usually there, but perhaps not all there. Last night I was up from 3 a.m. to 5 a.m. because I had to know how the story ended. This morning, my critique partner told me, "One chapter at a time. You'll get there."
It's true, I will. I do wish I was one of those authors who could leave their work at their desk and let it go. I wonder what that's like, actually.
What things obsess you to the point of taking you out of the game? Do you have a friend/partner who brings you back?