I knew it would happen. I told you it would happen. For those of you who don’t write, I can’t explain it. It’s like when you really, really have to pee, and someone keeps talking to you.
I got a scene on the way to work. It was wonderful, it fit perfectly, and it will be the central scene of the story I’m writing. And plotting it made me drive right by the school. I noticed I’d gone too far two miles later, and coming back through the beginnings of rush hour traffic made me late. So when I got in my office, I pretended I was working and made eight people wait while I scribbled the basics, so I wouldn’t lose it forever.
Then I spent 10 hours dealing with important but boring stuff, while hoping/dreaming to be left alone for five minutes…
At one point I hid in the bathroom and scribbled a few more lines. But they found me. I think they’re tracking me. Maybe one of those cookies yesterday had a homing device.