I’m making progress, so the story stays with me, so I make faster progress–Wheeee! When I can catch this vibe of productivity and creativity, it’s barely work. The sense of forward momentum is BLISSFUL, and tends to be self-reinforcing. When I can consistently add to a story, I have a lovely sense of living with it–waking up in the story world, visiting it again last thing of the day, seeing it in my dreams. I expect I get the same buzz from a writing jag that other people get from going to gym (and I NEVER get from exercise, ever, period, don’t even glance down that path). I might have to pop into the office later in the day, but mostly, over the holidays, I can get up, and write at least a couple thousand words, day after day. I do, however, get into a pattern where I can write for days on end. I don’t decorate, I don’t socialize much, I try not to overindulge in seasonal delicacies. I’m mourning the end of the holidays, though not for the reasons you’d suspect.
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