The writing zone. I imagine it like one of those indoor trampoline parks (never been, my kids are adults) where it’s likely you get so much momentum going you JUST. CAN’T. STOP.
That’s what happened to me yesterday — and to a lesser extent day.
Hours pass. I’m stiff from sitting. The creative energy surges. Words bounce around in my brain and land on the page. Brand new words.
It’s hard to start a new novel. Especially, for me, because the last time I started one it was 2016. I lived in a different state. I had a different life. I wrote most of The Last Bathing Beauty in my current home, but I never created the origin of a novel here.
So far so good.
I’m also well aware this could change at any moment.