There might be something to this whole ‘cyclical nature of the craft’ thing. Check about three hundred posts ago and I’m sure I said the same thing then. As before it is these maddening fits and starts that is driving me away from the keyboard and towards my Vodka-filled freezer. I can see it in my recent posts, where I have a solid thread to work from and end up with half formed thoughts and ten minutes of what amounts to little more than a handful of sensible writing.
This is what the writing process looks like sometimes: you sit in front of a keyboard and frantically effort to unjumble your thoughts into a cohesive string of logical sentences that rise precipitously towards a point. Then suddenly you realize that everything you wrote makes sense to you, but not to anyone else. Then you go back and you do it again. And again. That revision process doesn’t apply to the 10 minutes of raw output I disseminate here, so that recursive process appears in its own way throughout the successive days once a solid idea strikes me and drives me back to the keyboard again and again.
I wonder what ideas will bubble up over the next few days. My mind is clogged with thoughts of magic, football, ghosts, and the Matrix. Few of these ideas are connected, but the mind tries to make sense out of things through dreams for some and through writings for others, and I wonder what dreams may come.