The space in between.

What I wore: Top, Marshalls. Skirt, Express. Sandals, Minnetonka. 

Right now, I'm in that awkward space after finishing one story and before beginning another.

The space in between. 

It's tough to go from applying the finishing touches 

on a full, living block of text

to sitting in front of a completely blank page,
waiting to put down fresh marks on a brand new story.

It's hard to say goodbye to my last characters

and to delve into the personalities of totally new ones. 

Starting a new story is like meeting a stranger.
You're still discovering how to write it, how to uncover each perfect word from the depths of the
empty pages. You don't know which tone is the right one.
You don't know these characters inside and out yet.
 You might not even know how their story ends.
But at the same time, it's amazing to think of the sense of possibility.
It's a blank page.
You can fill it with greatness.
You can rectify all of your previous writing mistakes.
You can begin fresh.
Right now, I'm caught in the middle.
Half of me is still clinging to my last story, wanting to read it over and over
while the other half of me plunged straight into writing my next novel.
Most of the time, I just stare at the blinking cursor on
my word document and wait while I orient myself in this new world that I'm creating.
Just me and that little black cursor against that big white page.
The space in between.