I felt so lethargic yesterday, really and truly crappy. I figured I wouldn’t be able to write a coherent sentence, but I needed some office time, so at seven o’clock I dragged my ass and laptop up the stairs. I was going to take it easy, probably do some free writing, maybe lie back in the stinky recliner and let my mind wander, definitely listen to some music, which I can’t do while I’m seriously writing.
I released the pressure to justify the office time with measurable progress. I typed in some notes while listening to Yahoo! radio. Opened the document containing my plot bullets and wrote a few sentences. And a few more. I looked up at the clock and saw an hour had passed, looked down at my computer screen and realized I’d accidentally written the entire one-page synopsis.
Coming out of the zone, I wondered what had happened to my music, but I’d turned it off at some point. Going over what I’d just written, I saw I’d also cleared up a few problematic names, and filled some long-standing plot holes. Accidentally. Don’t even remember doing it.
That’s so effing cool.
God Bless the mysterious “zone.”
If only we could figure out how to capture it. But it eludes.
The “zone,” shadows, and women: Chase them they flee. Flee them they follow.
When you were in the zone, you were plugged in to the universal collective unconscious where there is no time, where one hour feels like a mere nano-second.
Send me some of what you’re smoking, wouldya? I’m still stuck.
Ian
Ian, I’m smoking my NEW OFFICE WALL! I love having a door that didn’t come from the bath section of Big Lots.
Caroline, that’s a reasonable assumption. Another possibility is that I channeled a long-dead writer and will find out later that this book has already been written.
Dwight, maybe that’s what’s wrong with me. I think I’ve been following when I should be fleeing.
That is effing cool. Im going to try that now– dragging ass and laptop…
It is so frickin cool. I love these side doors in life!