So all this time I’ve said I’m writing a book – and I am. I’ve been plotting and sorting out who my characters are, and that’s all really important. But I hadn’t yet actually written anything that will be IN the book until less than twelve hours ago.

Today started out like many other Wednesday mornings in fall, with the sound of a torrential downpour of rain on my window and a headache from sleeping for less than six hours. I had some yoghurt for breakfast, packed my backpack and double-checked my to-do list for the day, and then I headed off to learn about popular culture in the twentieth century.

Now, this definitely isn’t my favorite class, but I’m always good about paying attention and writing down notes. The first part of the lecture today was about going over what we already learned though, and while I paid attention, I also suddenly felt the itch that I needed to start writing.

And I just wrote.

I only got about a page down before I needed to start taking notes on new material, but that’s okay. It’s one page, the first page of my book. I am officially writing a book, and it feels awesome.

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