I used to love going to the barn dances at the end of the harvest season. Everyone had worked hard to harvest the crops. The cattle had been driven to market and the year was coming to an end. The nip in the air signaled the end of one very long, back-breaking season.

It was time to let our hair down and enjoy the fruits of our labor. A country music band (sorry, I’m from Texas) played Cotton Eyed Joe while we did the Texas Two Step. We laughed and retold stories of comedy and calamity the year had brought. We rekindled relationships that had flickered during the season, separated by miles of cattle country. All too soon for any of us, the night came to an end. We’d literally danced the night away.

We marveled at how hours could zip by in an instant. How we wished we could slow down the hands on the clock and make our night stretch on forever. But our evening quickly became history, leaving us with only fond memories of our precious time together as lovers, friends and a tight knit community. Such cherished moments they were of lives with meaning, love and neighborly kindness.

When we spend time with what we love, time seems to jet by. Not once did I ever hear anyone say, “I’ve had enough of these people and this stupid dance. Can we leave now?” No, instead I heard moans and cries when parents drug their children kicking and screaming to the car. I watched as lovers said goodbye, then again, and again because they really didn’t want to leave each other.

Do you feel that way with your prose? When the hands of time betray you, do you long to linger just a few more minutes with your story? Do you wish for a little more energy? Do you get so lost in the dance with your characters that you suddenly realize the son is creeping over the eastern horizon and you’ve been dancing with them all night long?

If you’re not already, you can experience the same passion for your writing I just described about barn dances. The right passion will cause you to yearn to be with your story, to rush home at the end of a long hard day at work just to spend every remaining waking moment with it. You’ll have conversations with your characters and dance the night away with them. At the end, when you finally force yourself to stop and hit the sack, you’ll do it kicking and screaming, begrudging the fact that you are only human and can’t stay up all night. That’s love.

When was the last time you danced the night away with your story? How long has it been since you took it in your arms and spun around the dance floor? Can you dance with your prose when there is no music or audience? When it’s just you and your story? Post your stories of dancing with your prose on the team member forum. I’d love to hear from you. You can always email me privately at reba@mybooktherapy.com. View Part one and Part two here:http://www.mybooktherapy.com/?p=5218, http://www.mybooktherapy.com/?p=5228

AUTHOR BIO: Reba J. Hoffman is the MBT Member Care Coach. She has a PhD in clinical counseling and is the founder and president of New Hope Institute of Counseling. Reba uses her gift of encouragement to help writers overcome negative emotions so they can live their dream of being a writer. Her works appear in publications such as Running for the Woman’s Soul by Road Runner Sports and The Good Fight by Donna Hicken. She is the author of My Book Therapy’s Dare to Dream, a Writer’s Journal. Contact her at reba@mybooktherapy.com.