I feel like I’m standing on top of a mountain that it has taken a very long time to scale – and there, in front of me, spread out below, are hundreds of impossibly beautiful peaks – and I’m in a state of bliss – because all those mountain tops are there for me to visit and explore.
I have never before achieved this exact state of joy in my writing before. I have always known that you are in the right place and doing the right thing when time seems to stop – vanish altogether – and you’re in this suspended place of pure creativity – that’s when you’ve hit the “groove.”
I have written three short stories in the last few days – and every one of them has put me in that place – that groove – that place of time standing still.
It doesn’t matter to me if the writing is great, mediocre or terrible. Well, maybe I’d care if it was terrible – what matters is what is flowing out of me like a river – just flowing and rushing forward with no dam – nothing stopping it. I have idea after idea. I have stories inside me and they are spilling out. And I love it.
I am only amazed that it took me this long to find this place – this groove – this exact right spot for me to be.
I suppose I’m a late bloomer.
I don’t care. As a writer, I feel reborn.
And it feels very good.