When I’m suddenly struck with the inspiration to write it feels as if my heart may leap from my chest. I get tense and nervous, but most of all, I get anxious.
Now I used the word, “struck” on purpose, you see, because it is as if being suddenly struck by a hard object. I’m Lucy, and Ricky just threw the book at me and without warning I now have a black eye and my mind is full of suspicion and doubt and fear, but also of hope. There is a hope inside of me that I will take this further than just an idea.
The only cure for my black eye is to write. So I do. So I have been.
I’m sorry I have been gone for so long.