The Money Tree

[the-money-tree]

Something strange happened to me

Do you believe in miracles?

The whole shebang in two hours time

 Honestly? I used to be skeptical about ideas that ‘find their way’ to someone. I had read about inspiration that could hit you, but I never experienced anything like it. My perspective changed a short while ago. 

 Let me tell you what happened to me on a cold Friday night, early February. The months before that I had been struggling with my fifth book. It did not work and I felt depleted. But that something hit me. I needed to do something with the song in my head. I took a shower, spent the night with my family and forgot about it all together. 

 The next day I opened my laptop with no particular thought on my mind. A white document with a pulsing cursor in front of me. I am not sure why or how, but I started writing and writing. I kept typing away until I had a two thousand word document: the synopsis of my new book. 

 This had never happened to me before. Within a two hour span I received the whole shebang: the complete outline, my protagonist, the beginning and the end. It all landed in my lap unexpectedly. It was the start of something extraordinary.

[the-money-tree]

Cabin in the woods

Anyone who would like to write that book again longs to be away from everything for a while. There - undisturbed - that book will appear as if by magic, is the thought. Because writing while you also have a job, writing is of course impossible. Because your family. Your friends. And you still want to go to the theater, cinema, or your grandmother. Impossible.

 Well, of course this doesn't need to be true. Yes, it's hard to string words together and sculpt paragraphs and build chapters in stolen hours (in the morning before you go to work, at night when the dishes are done and the kids are in bed and your favorite series have been watched) ), I know from experience. 

 For me it comes in fits and starts. It goes well for a while. And then sometimes it doesn't work for a while and the counter hangs. Shit happens.

About this photo (spoiler alert: a writing week after all, ladida): I was already well on my way with my new book working at home. Let's say I had reached about the quarter barrier. It went reasonably well, although I am naturally impatient and had to remind myself that I can be satisfied with what I had already achieved in between the acts.

 Then the opportunity to write for a week in Andalusia came along. Long story, but the bottom line was that I could stay in Torremolinos from Saturday evening to Friday evening. It was an enticing idea to be able to give a big swing to the story.

That's how it happened. Now I'm in a nice apartment writing. It goes well. And in between writing splurged I eat a snack on the beach, in the evening I stroll through the streets behind it (nice gay bars and clubs because this city is very popular with men who love men) and in the supermercado's I search for unknown snacks during my walks.

I'm having fun. But above all: it works. Four days to go. See you later!

The other weird thing was: the whole story I put to paper that morning was in English, which is not my first language.