Fortune suddenly smiled on Jo and dropped a good luck penny in her path. Every few weeks she would shut herself up in her room, put on her scribbling suit, and "fall into a vortex," as she expressed it, writing away at her novel with all her heart and soul, for until that was finished she could find no peace. When the writing fit came on, she gave herself up to it with entire abandon, and day and night were all too short. During a writing fit everything else jos life seemed
A:Childish
B:overwhelming
C:disastrous
D:unimportant
