On Being An Addict

One of the great joys of my life is my fur babies. Billie girl, the rescue kitty. Banjo, the baby momma. And Ebon, the boy wanderer. Three cats, all with distinct personalities, all with individual wants and needs.

Once or twice a week, in the morning after they eat breakfast, I give them catnip for dessert. Some cats go crazy for catnip; Banjo being a prime example.

An addict would be a more appropriate term for Banjo. She made a raid on the cabinet where I keep the catnip stored, prying opening a lower door, then attempted to claw the sleeve of the substance open to further feed her addiction.

As an act of mercy, I moved the addictive plant material to a place she can’t reach. Knowing her proclivity for getting what she wants, I expect to find her opening the upper cabinet door before long.

As a long-time writer, I can identify with being an addict. I exhibit many of the symptoms of being addicted to reading, and especially writing.

Needing a fix several times a day if not all day—and night. Ignoring social responsibilities in order to feed my need. Losing track of time and missing meals. Missing appointments for the same reason.

Grouching when some trivial noise interrupts my train of thought. Waking up in the middle of the night when an idea strikes me, unable to go back to sleep because of the dozens of story constructs crowding my mind.

Examine your own reading and writing habits. If you aren’t experiencing one or more of these same symptoms, you’re not an addict—and you should be.

It’s more about the passions of writing, less about the disease. Although being an addict of the writing process is, in this case, very much a disease.

And it just keeps getting worse, you know, the longer you write. An enjoyable and delicious addiction, though.

Have you had your fix yet today?

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