Here I was, thinking that I’d get out for a twenty minute run and all of a sudden a story just started flowing out of my fingers and I had 800 in just about that same twenty minutes. I’m not saying that’s a huge amount, but I think it’s pretty fast and I’m a little shocked by both the rapidity of the muse’s strike and the intensity of it. Usually this sort of thing only happens to me with slam poetry. Although I can remember one other time I wrote a story suddenly and out of utter necessity. It actually came out quite well, although I’ve just returned to it in recent weeks for some serious editing.
In any case, I really need to be writing a travel essay to turn in next Friday, so maybe I should try to focus my resources with more discipline, but it’s so hard to turn away from the muse. In fact, I think it’s terribly stupid to turn away from it. So, let there be much writing in the days and hours and minutes to come (after I run).
I need a philosophical running buddy, I think. Dear friends of mine with a desire to talk crazy while running, if you are nearby and would/could do 8-minute miles for about six or eight miles, I’m your gal.
Oh gosh, I just used the word ‘gal.’ I absolutely must go.