I'm not exactly sure what happened to me tonight (this morning).
I sat down after the 11:00 news to do a "bit" of writing before bed. It's now past 3:00am, and it all feels like it happened in the blink of an eye.
Writers dream of this. To get into that zone where only you and the page exist (or screen, as the case may be). It felt as though the words were coming from somewhere else, flowing from brain to my fingertips so smoothly that my fingers were furiously flying across the keyboard and now, 3 hours later, I barely even remember what I write (I hope it's good!).
That deep-down creative fount I'm always talking about? I found it tonight. If only every day was so easy!
But what fun would that be, really? Isn't half the excitement of being a writer in that quest for the words that paint a picture of your story that is just so – just as you imagined it?
Sometimes finding the words can be like trying to get blood from a stone.
Other times, it's mystery and romance and imagination and dream, all taking flight.
Especially at night!