I slipped into the groove today when I was writing. It’s a fun, satisfying, and rewarding place to be. Words fly and the story unfolds with that amazing sense that I’m transcribing what I’m watching. Finishing is a little sad because it was so enjoyable. I sit for a while, reading what I’ve written, thinking about it, and considering what I know comes next. I’m doing that to kill time because I wrote so fast, with such focus, that most of my coffee remains. I only wrote for about fifty minutes, but wrote fourteen pages, about three thousand words.
My fingers are tired. Looking around the coffee shop, I feel disconnected from this place and uncertain if it’s real. These people and this place aren’t as dynamic as the characters and setting that I just left, but then, these folks are concerned about seeing plays, the weather, and what to eat. None of them seem intent on saving someone else. Maybe they’re hiding it well.
Good day of writing like crazy. Time to return to life’s mundanities.