This feels really good. I've been away from writing new creative work for far too long. In retrospect, it feels as if I've not been fully alive. Diving back into working on a new fiction project makes me sense the variance between writing and not; it's poignant and a bit embarrassing to be suddenly aware of how mentally dead I've been feeling.
Fiction writers are an odd bunch: We need to keep exercising our brains by creating fictional people doing fictional things in fictional worlds - but it all has to be absolutely true, too! - or else our minds begin to atrophy. Our spirit begins to fade. It's a slow death, like lying on a beach being buried one grain of sand at a time - so slowly we might not notice until we can barely work our lungs, but gosh is it undeniable when we begin to free ourselves from the confinement and begin sucking in deep lung-fulls of ocean air!
Well, to hell with that! I'm back.