To me, writing for hours upon hours, cranking out chapter after chapters, while lost in my own fantastical world I’ve created presents a feast of creativity. Its the moments where words flow without pause or the inner editor nags me to fix something. I indulge in the delight of chunks of scenes, settings, and development of characters. Pages flow to my document, almost on their own accord, leaving the sweet aftertaste of delight when I finish what I planned to accomplish.
Here of late, however, I’m finding too often I’m nibbling here and there along the edges of stories by setting up scenes, finding names and traits, and working in the short moments between real life demands that tug away my attention. Wordcounts get broken up into 300 words or more sections, split up along the day while I feel I’m sampling the inspiration. I can’t even remember the last time I cranked out 1000+ in a single sitting.
Without those blocks of time to ‘get in the groove’, I need to satisfy my writing need by writing in spurts. Even now, my son questions me about something, the dog wanders in to see if there’s a pet on the head or a treat to be offered. Even the cat will happen into my office to peer at me in his ever-so-subtle way before he leaps to the desk to seek attention. (I keep a water bottle nearby for just such occasions).
Snacking isn’t as gratifying as gorging. Either way of getting the words out move you to the end of the story. Ten minutes here, a half hour there, I manage to get things done.