It must be love. It simply must be. Why else would I forget to eat, get very little sleep, and hyper-focus to the exclusion of all else around me?
Oh, yeah . . . I'm editing a great book. I guess the emotional state is pretty similar. <sheepish grin> Don't get me wrong: the hubby comes first in my heart, yesterday, today, and always. But a lot of my "symptoms" are remarkably familiar.
As I've been working my way through the latest manuscript from a favorite author, I've realized what I'm doing each day seems less and less like work and more like sheer enjoyment. I look forward to that point in my day when I can sit down and relax with Ol' Greenie and get to work. I'm almost resentful of the day-to-day things that get in my way, delaying that moment. (What? Someone needs me to drive them somewhere? Well, shoot. Sleep? Oh, I guess it is three a.m. and I probably should think about it . . . but I'm not done with the chapter yet.)
I think one of the thrills for me is not only do I get to read something terrific, but I have the privilege of seeing something which has only been revealed to a handful of people. And yep, it is a privilege. I become emotionally invested in the characters and what happens to them. I get to tweak things to make sure everyone gets to enjoy the diamond. I get to rejoice when someone's happy with my work, and ultimately, when readers are happy with the author's work.
I'm slowly but surely settling into a season of life in which all the pieces are falling into place to create a pretty phenomenal picture.
I guess I really am in love—with my life.