Two weeks ago, a miracle happened. I had the house to myself for the weekend. That's almost three full days without the TV squawking, the constant inquiry of "Mommy, can I...." and the interruptions of my husband's friends. What did I do with this glorious time? Well, yes I did reserve a few moments for bubble baths, celebratory drinks, junk food, and trashy movies. But most of the time I dedicated to my writing. I knew that I would not get another opportunity for uninterrupted solitude, and I needed to use it. I set myself the seemingly impossible goal of 10,000 words for the weekend.
Well, just five minutes before midnight on that Sunday night, I accomplished my goal. Getting started was the hardest part, but there were many moments when the blinking cursor seemed to ask, "What now?" and I did not have an answer. Still, I blundered through, writing some lifeless crud that I know will be cut in the next draft. But as I plugged along, often an amazing thing happened. The story would jolt to life like Frankenstein's monster (couldn't resist the Halloween-esque analogy) and it seemed the words poured out from my fingertips on their own. It was magical and I was living the story along with the characters.
It happened again today. I had hoped to have this draft finished by Friday, but I have little hope, because I was sick for the last three days. Still, I'm going to try. This morning, hacking and sneezing away, I forced myself in front of the word processor, I had a staring contest with the blinking cursor and won. The story has come back and I'm excited about it once more.
Does this happen to you? Please, tell me of your ups and downs in story creation.