(And, yes, I’m going to pretend that really is a word even if it isn’t.)
Every once in a while I have one of those moments that make me think, “Hey, I may actually be a writer.” They’re somewhat rare, but they do happen.
And last night was one of them. I went to bed and I was laying there and my mind just wouldn’t stop working. It came up with an entire scene for this novel. And I thought, “I’m sure I’ll remember it in the morning. It’s 10:30. I really don’t need to get out of bed and write this scene right now. Do I?”
But I did. So, I crawled out of bed, turned back on the lights, turned back on the computer, and spent the next hour and a half typing up a 3,200 word scene.
Then I went back to bed. Except I still couldn’t get to sleep because now my mind had moved on to the next scene in the book.
So…I got up again. Turned on the lights again. Turned on the computer again. And wrote for another half hour. (It was a short scene – thankfully.)
And then I went to bed again. And my brain still wanted to keep going with the story. (I told it to go to hell. I’m still not really on Prague time, but no longer on U.S. time, so I didn’t want to completely mess myself up. Not that it matters to anyone except the cleaning lady…)
But I did end up getting up really quick to scrawl down about ten lines of the final scene of the book, because I was pretty sure I was going to lose that one if I didn’t at least put it down somewhere. But I was not turning on that computer again. No way, no how.
Fantastic, right? 4,200 words towards a novel. That’s awesome. And, with the writing I did earlier in the day, it was the most I’ve ever written in a single day. Yeah, me.
Problem? It wasn’t for the novel I’m working on. That’s right. I am now 6,000 words into one novel and 4,000 words into another. And they’re both popping right now. I have scenes in my head that need to be written for both.
So, seems I’m going to try writing two novels at once for a while. Haha.
Good thing I have no life…