where the writers are
The Writing Day

Another excellent writing day, devoted to the short story.  It keeps surprising me.  After light editing of the beginning and middle, I added another fifteen hundred words today, taking the total to 7500. I thought I'd be done - or the story would be finished - but the characters realized some things I had not. I'm not sure what end they'll come to, any longer.  It feels like they've taken it out of my hands.  

Would like to keep writing but after three hours in the coffee shop, writer's butt has set in. My coffee is done and I'm not sure where to go with the story.  One path is presenting itself but there's gentle pushback against that path.  I need to take some time to absorb the changes the characters and story presented, then see where it's to go next.  There are so many paths this can organically follow to conclusion, and I don't want to ruin it by taking the wrong path.  There can't be a cheap exit. I owe the story a strong ending.  It's in me, somewhere.  Just have to mine my thoughts until I find it. 

Time for a walk, yet I don't really feel ready for a walk.  I want to just sit here, in the coffee shop, on my sore butt, and think about the story, where it's at, where it's to go.  Think I'll indulge that impulse a bit, and then walk when I'm ready. 

I guess that's part of understanding my writing process.  In a sense, I wrote faster than I thought, and now my thinking must catch up with my writing.  It's perplexing and exhilerating. Once again, I have the sense that as the writer, I'm not a creator as much as I'm a witness.

Funny thought;  maybe I am a witness and what's to happen hasn't happened yet, so I can't witness it to write about it. 

Creepy, a perfect thought to end the writing session.  Maybe I'm taking that whole 'write like crazy' idea too literally, and I've gone a little more crazy.