How I Write

The mahogany desk is covered with stray papers, scraps, things I never really finished lay next to things I never really started. In the center, my laptop sits complacently. A Dell, only a coule of years old. It's not the best laptop ever, but it's reliable and gets the job done. One hinge is broken from constant use, not a fatal injury though. Start menu, third icon from the top: Microsoft Word (2000). One click, it opens, I look at the blank screen and the flashing icon. Time to start. I slip on headphones, play a random song from a library of thousands. Sometimes rock, sometimes pop, sometimes classical. Never country though. I close my eyes and let my mind wander. Then it hits me. Inspiration! I open my eyes, put my hands at the ready, and let the words flow. It's been called stream of consciousness, the "fictive dream"; whatever you call it, all writers have experienced it. It's the "zone". Sentences, paragraphs, whole scenes play out in my head. They wait to be put into something physical, tangible. There's nothing else, only me and my thoughts. Then, I finish. The euphoria of "the zone" leaves me, replaced by a sense of satisfaction and accomplishment. I sit back, having done what I set out to do. I click save and close the laptop carefully. I stand and stretch, ready to return to the outside world.