My mind is full of stories. I can’t stop. I’m supposed to be editing my novel. While I have started the beginning over, I haven’t touched the rest in days. It sits in a pink binder gathering dust while I rework the first pages, send myself voice memos of lines that I must add throughout, and write.  What am I writing? A trilogy.  I.Can’t.Stop.Writing. This is a problem.  I created a new world in my head. One set in the future. (Yes, dystopian society) I can’t get…