The title might seem a bit strange but let me explain. At one time I was in the middle of a novel, writing everyday for a definite number of hours usually from about 9 to 11. After that I would take time out to ride my exercise bike and then to have lunch. This routine I did daily, religiously you might say because I found that like any other routine once you got into the habit of that being what you did everyday at that time, then you would naturally just get up and do it. There would be no slacking off, no procrastinating, just do it. I found that worked well for me.
In fact it worked so well that once I got into the novel and knowing my characters a bit better, I loved being with them each day. Loved it so much that in the afternoon, after lunch, I would find myself sneaking back to my studio and writing, writing, writing. Do you think I might have been a bit obsessed? You would be right on.
I would hurry and get my other work done ( I had a young child in school and I could usually work around the time she was there, until around two thirty. Pick her up, come home, and no more writing until I could sneak back again after she was tucked in bed for the night. Then sometimes I would work into the wee hours of the morning. Just depending how fast my characters were getting around and how exciting their life was. ( I guess you might have figured out by now, that other than my writing and my child, I didn't have much of a life)
But there were times when I did have visitors, or other obligations that I just couldn't get away from. This brings me to the particular day that I had to be in the kitchen baking and cooking, which I didn't mind once I got started, but that day I found myself thinking only about my characters. Little dialogues would go running through my head and I just couldn't take the time to write anything down, let alone sneak up to the writing studio and get back into my book. Then an odd picture came into my mind, I call it odd because that is how it felt, sort of unworldly. There in my mind's eye were all my present characters exactly where I had left them, all standing like in a play, frozen in whatever position or room or frame of mind that I had left them last. It was a sight to behold and that is how they stayed every time I thought of them until I could finally get back to my studio and back to my writing world.
Then with the stoke of the first key, they all magically started moving, interacting, talking, crying, being angry or sad or happy. And this made me very happy to be back interacting once again with my unfrozen friends.
Happy writing everyone!