Right now, I got the urge to write this post. I want to write this post because there are words in my head that need to get out, my fingers need to go click-click-clack on this here keyboard.

Never mind the fact that I am hungry. (No breakfast.) Or the fact that I have two little ones running in circles around the couch and through the living room and in the kitchen (where I haven’t had breakfast). Or that the TV is little too loud and I could stop and take a second to turn it down but then I’d lose my train of thought and that is just not acceptable.

I need to write like smokers need to smoke. It doesn’t matter to them if it’s cold outside or if they just had a cigarette or if their friends roll their eyes at their habit.

I write in the mornings. At naptime. In the time it takes my daughter to go to the bathroom and wash her hands. At night. At home. At Starbucks. In class. On the laptop. On my iPad. On a napkin.

If I didn’t write I would lose the very essence of me. I’m in love with words and if they deserted me, well, I’d be lost.

Sure, I’m a married woman but words were my first love. If I was lonely or frustrated, I could get my emotions out and put them in a safe place. Words could comfort me, draw that fear out and replace it with satisfaction.

When I got laid off last year, I was scared but I knew this was my opportunity. To become a full-time writer. To pay the bills and provide for my kids doing the one thing I loved most in the world.

This is my dream and it’s here and I’m grabbing it with both hands.