Coming Down Slowly

I've just come off the longest writing jag I've ever had.

I spent 34 of the last 40 hours on a new story... 15,000 words done and I'm fucking knackered! And I reckon I'm about halfway through. I'm writing a fucking novella! Who the fuck is going to buy a novella?

Just time for a few beers and put the feet up to watch the US poll results come in...

I find story ideas coming at me at any time, anywhere, as if someone is e-mailing pictures straight into my brain. I write them all down in a notebook that never leaves my side, and sometimes one of them gathers a bit more depth, and I get a clearer image. At this stage I find myself thinking about it almost constantly, until a plot, or an ending, clarifies itself.

Once I've written down where the story should be going it quietens down a bit. Then, if I find myself still thinking about it a couple of days later, I'll probably start writing the actual story. At any given time I have about 20 ideas waiting for clarity, two or three of which might end up as finished works.

OK. That's how it usually works. This week has been a bit different. It started around 7:00am on Monday morning. I got the kernel of an idea and a character started talking in my head. I wrote down what he was saying.

Fast forward 40 hours. I've had six hours sleep and over thirty hours at the keyboard, with nearly 16,000 words done and dusted.

I then slept for 15 hours straight, got up, and started again.

It's only now, on Thursday evening, that my brain has started to slow. 23,000 words in less than 90 hours. I've never had a stint like that before.

It feels weirdly good, but also strangely terrible, knowing that there's something in me that can take me over quite so completely.

The story is not yet finished, but that's OK. He told me all of it. All I have to do is remember enough to write it down.

That's the weekend sorted then.