Two days back, I got a printout of one of the books I am working on.
To be edited. The next day.
And here I was, sitting with the book of A4 sized pages, literally making edits after dinner and before my sleeping time too. I edited half the book in the three hours that were meant to be my reading/chilling around/sleep on time hours (not recommended doing often).
Case in point:
When you love what you do, it seems like work to everyone else but you.
I’m in love
