Today I found in my inbox the much anticipated final proof of my next novel.

A red pen, a freshly printed manuscript. This is one of my favorite parts of being a writer. I love that moment when I realize I get to spend the next week or so reacquainting myself with some old friends.

Gone are the memories of the sleepless nights, the struggles with characters who wouldn't cooperate, and the edits that sometimes cut out some of my favorite scenes. Now I only feel the excitement of reading a book I've been waiting for, one with characters I already know and love.

Usually by the time I get to this point in a project, I'm already well into writing my next book. Admittedly, I'm running behind schedule this year. Mentally, I've been gearing up for what I should write next, but I know that I don't do well when I get interrupted, so I've let my imagination work without putting many  of those thoughts to paper.

The new characters and plotlines that have been circling through my head may not be happy with me, but for the next week they're shifting down on my list of priorities. This week I get to play.