Friday, 9 October 2009

On Fire

The following conversation, which apparently took place in the middle of the night, was reported to me by my wife, Rosie, this morning.

Me: Are you awake?
Rosie: What? Well, yes I am now? What is it?
Me: What the hell is happening with the top of my head?
Rosie: I don’t know. What do you think is happening with the top of your head?
Me: I thought there was a flame on it.
Rosie: Oh God, you’re not even really awake. Go back to sleep!

I did vaguely remember something about it when she reminded me. I think I imagined there was a blue flame, like the kind you see on gas cookers, coming out of the top of my head.

Actually, I wouldn’t be surprised if there was because I am storming along with my First Draft.

Don’t you just love it when the writing is going well? When you can’t type quickly enough because it’s pouring out of you like you’re a tap that’s been turned on?

That’s when you know you’ve got it absolutely right. Because you’re not even writing it; it’s writing itself; you’re just hitting the keyboard.

1 comment:

Paul Lamb said...

My dear wife occasionally reports such middle-of-the-night accounts of my semiconscious ravings, but none of them are true!

I've had a few writing moments when all I had to do was type the words that were being "revealed" to me, but I've not had enough of them. I envy you.