I often stumble when I begin writing a short story. I don’t know enough about the characters or the setting for brilliant sentences to come pouring out of my fingertips.
But I learn. I adapt to the story’s needs. And eventually—eventually I find the path, and the characters are just there, and I can feel the world take shape on the page. (Although the sentences are still not brilliant. I wish.)
This is one of the most amazing feelings. I call it writer’s high. Like runner’s high, but without the sweat. Or maybe just a different kind of sweat.
I wish there was a formula for inducing writer’s high, but if there is one, I haven’t discovered it. Marathon writing sessions have a better chance of bringing on that rush, but I’ve experienced it within a thirty-minute writing session, too.
When I inevitably come back into the “real world,” I always feel a little sad, like I’ve lost something. In a way, I have, but it’s something I can get back. I just have to show up at the page, and write.
How about you? Do you get writer’s high, or runner’s high, or rock climber’s high, or some other activity-induced high?