I’ve been writing well. When I say that, I mean that word counts are okay, and I’m satisfied with the general flow and output.
But I’ve been feeling my way through the dark. I’m at a pivot point. Exciting stuff has happened. Tension has been created. Now I’m pivoting to a new part of the arc to bridge what has happened with what’s going to happen. I was forced to pause to come up with minor characters’ names, define them, and address a few plot issues. So it was slow writing, like traffic out of L.A. on Labor Day weekend slow.
Then there is today. Walking along, thinking about where I’d stopped writing, and where I wanted to resume, the writing issues I’ve been working on all broke free. My writing exploded with a geyser of words that would make Old Faithful proud. I had to rush into the coffee shop, set up and get going with mind-blowing intensity. As always, my typing speed and thinking speed struggled to keep up with my writing speed. I end up typing as fast as I can, and then pausing, fixing some matters, reviewing what’s been written, and then jumping back onto the word train.
I’ve been doing small chores around the home, like repairing and painting posts, and repairing crawl space vents. I believe this manual labor freed and stimulated my creative side. I’ve always noticed that when I need to think more deeply to resolve something, I achieve more success by working on things that don’t take much thinking.
Done writing like crazy for today. What a session. It’s days like these that make writing so addictive. What a drug. The rest of the world seems so mundane as I come down from my high.