It’s a feeling that drips from the base of my scalp, down the length of my spine. It moves to the pit of my belly and then flutters upwards. I shut my eyes and I can feel my finger tips tingling.
The’s The Chill. That feeling I get whenever another character jumps out at me, scrambling to tell his or her story. This is when I can’t write enough with mere paper and pen. The typewriter is a wondrous invention. Too bad I don’t have one. Instead I have steroids-jacked up version of a typewriter. I have a laptop.
Somehow 90 words per minute doesn’t feel nearly fast enough.