I have lived this moment before, I’m pretty sure I have. Yet, every time it hits me, it feels new, transformative even.
The past few days have been absolutely incredible. The words have pushed, shoved, screamed at me to get out on the page. They march out, like a tiny army of ants, ready to conquer the blank pages, and fill the screen.
There are moments when I think that becoming a writer is some awful form of self-torture. Those moments when you sit there, staring at a blank screen thinking, “How the hell do I get Y character from Point A to Point B?”
There are times when the dialogue is so stilted, my ideas and thoughts so scattered that I’m ready to commit seppeku. Seriously, hand me that sword.
And then there are those rare moments, words wrapped in joy, that fall onto the page.
I can’t properly describe it, but when it occurs, the only thing I can do is hang on and WRITE. As fast as possible, notes everywhere, words, phrases, connections – they dance, DANCE out of me in a flood.
And in that moment, everything in my life makes sense. As if every moment I have lived up until this time has brought me inexorably to this place, where the stories breed, the characters laugh, love and hate.
I swear, I could stand on top of a mountain and sing like that overly happy woman on The Sound of Music.
Let me tell you, sometimes writing is one hell of a ride.
p.s. I expect to have the first draft of Schicksal Turnpike done this weekend