I love it when I go for a long drive with just my own thoughts and I come home all flush with ideas. There's something about the white noise of tires on pavement that really works at the subconscious, or it warms my creative neurons. Whatever it is, today I spent about four and a half hours in the car and the last two I was ready to be home at the computer, typing. Which I just did.
This is the first time I've been really excited about writing anything in a long time. It's a big project, and one I've been simmering on the back burner for about three years when the character name came to me during a walk in the Lower East Side after my dad's death. And it did just that - appeared in my mind like someone spoke it to me.
This summer it seems like I've got the right stew of images/words/activities going on in order to get the writing underway. Energy comes from knowing what to do, my friend Susan says. She's right. I'm not totally sure I know exactly what I'm doing and that's ok. The energy is there and the page isn't blank.