Outside my RV windshield, birds soar and swoop and dive. Not just once or twice a day but again and again and again. Pelicans glide into view in arrow-tight formations. Seagulls burst skyward, wings pumping against the wind. Crows chide and ravens rave as they skim the waves. What drives this constant motion? Dogs, sometimes. People, sometimes. Mostly they are driven by hunger. A hunger so insatiable that even October gales don’t keep them beach-bound. Readers hunger for the next book. Writers hunger too. Words fly from our fingers again and again and again, day after day, despite gales of uncertainty, winds of doubt. If you want to be a author, rather than someone who dreams of writing, you can’t wait for a windless day. Winds that crush can also lift. So take flight. Again, and again, and again.