Don’t you love it when you experience a writing explosion?

Yeah, baby.

Writing explosions are less predictable than earthquakes, weather, and volcanic eruptions. Not even a rumble presages the eruption.

It happened to me as I was walking and writing in my head. Reviewing what I’d written and was preparing to write today, I experienced a gleeful epiphany that exposed an entire scene. I laughed aloud with pleasure as I walked along the city street.

A domino effect was triggered. Other scenes and pieces of dialogue emerged. When I sat to write, I had to go retro with pen and notebook to capture sufficient vestiges of the insights and scenes to help me write them all. Then I powered up the laptop, slugged down gulps of hot, black coffee, and typed with driven intensity.

Afterward, it felt so damn good. Sublime. Flood gates had exploded open, releasing streams of insights into the trilogy’s third novel, and its structure. The final sentence came to me. I felt like I was channeling Philip K. Dick with some of the scenes, and Philip Roth on others.

When it was done, I was grinning. Once again, the coffee shop and other customers seemed like a foreign land, because I’d not been there, in my mind. It’s such a fucking web I’m weaving.

I love it.

Has it always been so noisy in here?