The weather yesterday, high 30s and sunshine, had me longing for a run. I settled for a superb, solitary walk on the mostly clear rec trail. I kept at a steady clip around a four mile loop I used to run on a lunch break sometimes.
Once the pavement was under my shoes, the ache to run passed and my mind’s gears got to grinding. It used to happen like that on a really good run and I was giddy over the experience yesterday. My, oh my, it’d been a long time since my imagination slipped into writing mode that easily.
Idea after idea took shape for the novel I’m currently writing. Each one flowed from the one before it. All of it made me grin as I walked through my town and filled my lungs up with fresh air.
Three times before reaching home, I ran through each of the notes and scenes I was writing without a pen. I repeated them to myself in the order they’d come to me, and at the end of each round, more new material came. It was a feast.
When I arrived home, I rushed through explaining to my husband why I had to get to my notebook and pen. I had to write all of it down before any of it disappeared, as unrecorded ideas are apt to do.
I don’t know how long I spent writing. I don’t know why everything worked yesterday when it so often does not.
I know I have eleven pages of new, solid character and plot development and scenes for my novel. I know it was a walk to rival any of my favorite runs.
I’m grateful, and I can’t wait to eventually share this book with you someday.