I’ve been doing what I’m doing for what seems like forever now, so I’ve become pretty good at realizing when something is off in my process and pushing on regardless, getting it done if not by the joy of it, by muscle memory, so to speak. Not to imply that I can push out a book with no thought, because even on the bad days, there’s the satisfaction of the technique.
I don’t want to say it’s been a while because I don’t keep track of my zone days. But I can say I’ve been finding them more lately, that the pure peace of creation has crept back into my daily routine again. Don’t get me wrong. It’s not roses and cream over here. Every day is still “the best day” my dog is going to have, there’s this winter that won’t let go, and the “6:00 pm” haze of background noise coloring everything. But what defines me is satisfying again. There is movement, a growth toward the pure simplicity of story as the heavy dross is knocked away.
I think you’re going to like who I’ve been spending my day with, and if you don’t? Well, I’ve still got the zone.