See, this is the good bit about writing. Itâ€™s what keeps you going. Itâ€™s the wild rush of â€œshit, did I think of that?â€ with all kinds of weird chemicals shunting around your brain and ideas and images and moments and storyforms all opening up snapsnapsnap in your mind, a mass of new and unrealised possibilities.
Itâ€™s ten past two in the morning, and Iâ€™m completely wired, caught up in the new thing, shivering and laughing and glowing in the dark. Just as well itâ€™s the middle of the night. No-one would be safe from me right now. I could read their minds and take over their heartbeats with a glare.