Yesterday's writing day went so beautifully well, it's painful in its joy.  

Open up the gates!  Words must be let out!  Stories are queuing, waiting to be set onto paper. 

Yes, a day of enjoyable writing, thinking of new stories, working on current stories and novels, seeing everything in a clear, strong light.  I will sing to you of the focus that came unto me, enabling to shift from one to another and keep on typing.  I wrote into the evening and then I wrote on in my mind, phantom writing, continuing the stories, eager to return to writing today.

That's the writing day we hunger to enjoy, when you bite into it and find the sweet spot, when the writing process is all that you dream of it being.

Such days feel dangerous.  They encourage me to hope, to think I should change my life so that everyday is such a writing day.  But most of us know that the writing days and their moods are as temptestuous as En Nino's weather impact.  

That's not a surprise.  Thinking, writing and creating all more forces of nature, channeled through us as people.  Although humans like to stand aside as something outside of nature - look what nature is doing to us and our lives and buildings, we think, pondering Sandy's impact - it's like complaining about ourselves.  We are nature and nature is us.

It's just the nature of some of us to write.