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I sometimes tell people that, for me, writing is not a discipline. It is an addiction, my personal anti-anxiety drug. In the aftermath of my brain injury, it has been harder for me to manage my emotions. Having a story rolling along in my head comforts me, distracting me from my irrational worries. As long as I don’t push my eyes and my brain too far—which is very easy to do—writing is a soothing process.

When I’m halfway through a project, I begin to worry about what my next book will be. The thought of not having a writing project going sends me into a panic. What if I get to a point where I can’t think of another thing to write? What will I do then?

Thankfully, the inspiration keeps coming, sometimes from within myself, sometimes from others. After reading Days of Daze, my friend Emily approached me and said, “Why don’t you write another book telling us how you’ve faired in the years since you wrote Days of Daze?”

I went home and told my husband what Emily had suggested. He said, “I’ve been thinking for quite awhile that you should do that.”

And so, the idea for my next book was born. When I finish my current book, I will delve into that project. Thank you, Emily. Thank you, Allen.

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