I’m 3 weeks into the writing of my book.

What a joy. It’s much better than reading any book. It really is.

No wonder there are so many books out there for us to read.

No wonder humanity has produced so many books over millennia.

It’s so fantastic and rewarding.

I’m talking about writing a novel.

Characters.

You have to give them life, an appearance, a mood and an attitude. That is amazing.

Those characters live in your head. They do things, say things, while walking on the thin line of your story.

I wouldn’t be surprised if within a few weeks all that people start talking to me. Arguing about what the heck I’m doing with them in the story.

They are looking at me. They are waiting; expecting.

It’s too bad for them that they are trapped inside my head and I have these 3,000 other things to do in my life, meaning that they have to wait until every Sunday afternoon to see some progress happening in their little lives.

We are building this little by little, but I have promised them a free life! Yes. Once the book is out. They’ll all be released. I hope.