So I was thinking . . .

about what I haven’t been thinking about: The Sleep of Reason.

There were days when I was writing (and rewriting and revising and editing and trimming) that novel when I couldn’t get my thoughts down fast enough. Ideas for developing this or that bit of it flowed into my head all the time. I was happy with this; nearly all of it was good stuff that I found a way to use.

Then I sent the manuscript off to the agent who expressed an interest in it (still no word — it’s driving me crazy), and suddenly my mind just abandoned that story. Those rapid-fire thoughts no longer come into my head. Sure, I’m busy working on Larger than Life now (pokey progress, but progress nonetheless), and thoughts are pouring into my head about that. (And about some short stories and even the next novel).

Yet is is interesting to me that something which consumed my waking thoughts a couple of months ago is now not even an occasional thought. (Even the apprentice novels I wrote years ago visit me from time to time with suggestions for updating or improvement.) Is this how creativity works?

Explore posts in the same categories: Sleep of Reason

2 Comments on “So I was thinking . . .”

  1. Pete Says:

    The muse is a fickle mistress. (You can quote me on that, unless I unconsciously stole it from someone else.)

  2. Brian Keaney Says:

    I find exactly this. I work on something with a feverish intensity. It possesses me for months. Then I send it in and a month or two later I can barely remember the name of the central character.

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