Have you ever gotten really, deeply "into" a chapter or a section of your writing? You effortlessly type out your work and it flows from your fingertips quickly and smoothly? Then eventually, you look over at the clock and if this were a movie, there'd be the sound of a record player needle scratching and the music ending abruptly. You realize that you have either been at the computer for four hours or your clock is a lying bastard. You stare at the clock. It stares back. And like every time, wins the staring contest. "You win this round, clock. Well played, sir. Well played." Your word count shows that you added something like 12,000 words to your document. Did you really write 10% of a novel in 4 hours? You feel like you just sat down and yet you've done DAYS of writing! If only every day could be like some sort of schizophrenic break, right? Maybe we shouldn't hope for that because those are the kind of prayers gods LOVE to answer with a resounding "YES!". Then later you become the subject of a "Fatal Attraction" style mini-series on Lifetime. I love writing like that but it is subtly disconcerting to have it actually happen. It is some of my best work but I also don't feel like I really *did* it! I remember it when I go back and read over what was written, but... Where did that writing come from? [headscratch] Some part of my brain switched off the rest of it? It is practically the definition of hypnotism. Utterly focused on only a single thing. It is the writing version of reading a really good book, I suppose? It's a little creepy.