Writing High

I tried to explain to my mum what writing is like for me. I took out for dinner as a belated Mother's day present (minus the chocolates, wine and caramelised nuts she got on the Sunday). While she was making contented cow faces at the foie gras she had chosen without blinking at the price, I made an analogy. "So when you do gardening, you feel satisfied with what you've done don't you? You feel you've achieved something, right?
"Not that you people appreciate," came the mumbled reply.
"Well, mother, it's like that for me when I write. It's never work. It's my gardening. I feel better when I do it. You know when I get cranky and moody and irritable and there isn't enough peach tea to make me communicate with anyone? It's because I haven't written anything."
She gave me a strange look. "Is that healthy?"
Good point, ma. I don't know if it is, but maybe being able to craft people and events to the backdrop of where I live just makes me do a bum heavy dance around my room. I came up with a line yesterday which actually made me laugh out loud. I told my brother, the test of a great funny, who snorted and said, 'Good one Billy.'
So I'm feeling on my game right now. On the radio show a few weeks ago, I told Jayha that if it ever came to the point where I was just writing because it was a matter of doing and not feeling, I'd have to stop writing altogether. I doubt it will happen, because quite frankly, it's a cheap and easy way of betting bonanza-ed.
I know. I need to go out more... But you know, if I substituted writing for any drug I'd be in trouble. I mean, Jayha showed me a cover and said, 'Write me a story for this'. Protesting and squealing about how many other stories I had to concentrate, ideas started to swirl around in my head, goddammit! They are brewing now, to the point where I actually wrote a whole scene for it and I've named all my characters. All of them. It's Jayha's fault. That's my new default response. 'The Scottish guy did it' will also be appropriate in all other lines of defence. Whatcha think? Is writing like crack?