My name is K. S. Daniels and it's been 1 day since I've last written. I was doing good for a while-teaching at the university and only writing academically. But I fell off the wagon about a year and a half ago. At first, I was just writing in my free time. It was like a hobby and they say hobbies are good for recovering writers. Well anyway, it just kept getting worse. I was writing in the morning before I lectured, doing it in the office on my lunch break. Sometimes I'd stay up all night writing, revising, and even editing. Before I knew it, it was like the old days again. The swift clicking of the keys, the gentle pressure on my fingertips as I released each one, the steady stream words consuming every inch of the page-what a rush! I can't stop. It's too late for me now, they say. Might as well let me write myself to death. It's ok though. One day they'll find me: hunched over my desk, fingers poised-as if ready to strike down the next words. Maybe they'll shake their heads and say, "What a waste". But I wouldn't have it any other way.