Last night my wife fell asleep just after supper. My instinct was to goof around on the Internet, getting into debates on Progressive Ears or Metafilter. But instead I opened the document for my short story. I’ve been diddling with this thing for a couple months now and the progress has been slow but steady. I succeeded in switching the point of view but it was a bitch reconstructing the rest of it. I was stuck at around five thousand words with a couple major gaps in the tale. So I bent back to the task with the idea that maybe I could get something on the page.
It started to flow. And I mean a torrent of words. I probably wrote 2500 words in that two hour stretch and about 9:30 it was done. I was shocked and a little jubilant. I sent it off to my old writing group in hopes that one of them might critique it. With Sansa dogging my heels, I walked around the dark house. It was done, finished in one night. I’ve had these surges before. The book was finished in a two week session that pretty much echoed this one but that had been over a year ago. I was done and a little bit flabbergasted.
Now it’s seven in the morning. I woke up around five thirty, stirred by a strange discordant dream I can now barely remember. I should try to fall back asleep but my ADHD is in full bloom, sending wave after wave of unrelated thoughts and tangents. It’s tough to concentrate but even harder to shut my mind back down. I’ll open a can of food for the cats and surf the net, waiting for sleep to return. Good morning and good night.