I wrote until one-thirty in the morning last night. There’s something about those late, dark hours when everyone is asleep, the phone doesn’t ring and you can lie on the floor in a pair of sweats and just pour the story out. (Okay, the floor thing didn’t last long. 36 year-old bodies don’t do floor well anymore.)
Things have been stressed in the Elliott household so the hubby went to bed around the same time as the kids. I left the TV on for company but turned it to a movie I’ve seen a lot–that way I can look up and catch the good scenes. This was a Harry Potter flick. (Yeah, I’m a grown up who is just as enchanted with the Potter world as the kids. )
But… I didn’t look up. I missed the water rescue scene. Wrote right through it. The best thing about all the crap I wrote while trying to force myself into the zone yesterday afternoon is that it freed me to slide almost effortlessly into that ‘real’ zone last night.
Sometimes I call it the writer zone and sometimes… it’s the writer’s high. This was a particularly good one. I don’t even know my word count for the entire day yet, but it went past the 3000 goal. There will be major cuts, but I don’t care. The gems I uncovered were worth the hours of er, crap. (You knew I had to use the word in reference to yesterday’s rant, didn’t you?)
The only downsides to waking up after that writer’s high? A somewhat groggy morning and eyes like the dude’s above.