…in the electric sense, not the washtub sense. Although to someone with a greater level of technical knowledge they are probably the same sense.
Apparently this energy extends even to things that aren’t writing. In the last 36 hours I’ve stripped the nasty old carpet runner from the hallway, gone to market, gone to work, typed up all my VP notes, got the photoblog up to date, caught up on email, gone for a run, and slept a whole four hours.
I keep having ideas for stories, and jotting them down, and then reminding myself all over again that ideas don’t count. They’re like salt in cooking: never at the heart of the dish. At the heart is the person, in the place, with the problem.
That’s the thing I used to know and somehow forgot for a decade or so. I don’t expect I’ll forget it again.