When I lose my keys there is little else I can think about. I search everywhere. I look under things where dust bunnies have created dust bunny babies. I open up cupboards knowing I'd never put my keys there, but check just in case. I ask everyone in my family if they've seen my keys.
And then there is the relief when I find them. The satisfaction that I' haven't lost my mind. Usually they are in a strange but logical place. I tell myself, never again. I'll put my keys exactly in the same place so this won't happen again. Ha...three days later. "Has anyone seen my keys?"
This is how I feel about my novel. I think about constantly. I have that feeling in my gut that I have to find the best way to tell my story. I read. I write. I talk. I research. And then repeat the cycle over and over again. It's hard to let go of the story until it's complete, until my characters have told their story the best they can. I'm still searching for my keys, and look forward to finding them soon.