i have never experienced anything similar to the experience of writing a novel — the ceaseless trance of creating a world of people and events. as the writer, i am entirely consumed by this world that i’ve created. it occupies the majority of my thoughts. i imagine it’s very much like falling in love; it’s the beloved that you go to sleep and wake up thinking about. new ideas and ventures, new characters and more details about the existing ones and ways to rewrite the currently occurring events are constantly filling my mind. the process is exactly like a map being drawn, and it’s only colored and detailed when put into words. this manifestation came unexpectedly and took me by surprise. it was the art that came out of the pain i was feeling when i started it. it’s only been two weeks, but the wound is already mending and feels more inclined to healing than getting infected.
if this isn’t magic (it sure is), and if it isn’t the light at the end of this little tunnel of mine (i know it is), then i’d love to live longer and experience more magic and lights at the ends of tunnels if they come close or possibly even exceed the wonder of what i’m experiencing right now.