Terrific day for a loner.

I was out running an errand for Linda, so I couldn't help noticing how nice it was out.  For once, having emerged mole-like from the my room, which has curtains closed to facilitate writing.

So I headed out the Badlands, and went to the head of the canyon.  Bunch of cars parked there as other people had the same idea, so instead of heading up the canyon I turned and headed down.  Then about 15 minutes along the path, I scaled the small rock cliff and started climbing up to the top of the bluff.  All alone.  Completely blue skies, the perfect temperature -- near 60 degrees -- just an exhilarating atmosphere.

Turned at the top of the bluff and there were the Three Sisters, as pretty as anything I've ever seen.  I had those frizzies running up and down my spine and even teared up a little at the beauty of it.

Well then and there I sat down, dust or not, and let it all soak in.  I could hear the occasional truck on the highway, and in the middle of it, someone started flying a model plane.  But mostly, just beautiful silence and solitude and vistas.

And then the ideas started coming.  The beginning lines of Ghostlander.  And then more lines. 

And nowhere to put them.

I had walked away from the car without my backpack, so after lying there in the sun for a half hour or so, as relaxed as it is possible to be, I got up and trudged back to the car.  But really, that was all right too, because it felt good.  Took a half an hour to get back and grab my backpack.  Then headed down the path again, and five minutes later I realized I'd loaned out my pen at writer's group last night, so I headed back to the car and retrieved the car pen.

An hour after I left, I'm back at the place I discovered.  I sit down and start writing longhand in my notebook.  A couple of hours later, my legs so asleep that when I stood up I nearly fell over, I had nearly two chapters written.

I felt amazing.  Relaxed and fulfilled.

The outdoors are really conducive to writing, for some reason.  I should do this every chance I get.  I live in freaking Central Oregon!  Even if the weather isn't 'perfect' like today.  I'm also thinking it would be an interesting experiment to write the first draft in longhand, like I did in the old days.  My handwriting has turned to crap for some reason, but I think I can still decipher it.

Finally -- my subconscious has spoken and has decided that Ghostlander must be written.  It turns out that rewriting Faerylander was a good thing to do because it has reacquainted me with my characters and that world.

I like Cobb and company quite a bit, and will love spending another adventure with them.  And another and another,  I suspect.

I get a high from writing sometimes -- it feels so amazing when it spills out like that, like it's already there and I'm just catching the words as they flow by.  It makes me feel really alive.  Gratified and grateful.  Maybe I'm the only one that gives a damn, but I like my little stories.