flow and/or drowning and/or the undertow and/or riding the river and/or on fire

I remain steadfast, like Steve Jobs taking a calligraphy class, that nothing I do is wasted or purposeless. On the surface, Jobs taking a class in beautiful writing had nothing to do with his interest in computers—until the lessons he learned and the aesthetics taught and celebrated in that class showed up years later in the beauty and fonts Apple is known for. Only after chasing his good feelings and then having faith did he realize many years later that his passions all coalesced into one big idea. Or more than one idea. An idea that was more than the sum of its parts and the “random” rabbit trails he followed throughout the years of his life were not so random anymore, but were all building blocks for that big idea. That person computers could be both useful and gorgeous, and hell, even friendly.

My goal in writing—such that it is a goal—has always been to craft sentences that feel good. I want to feel good while writing, and I want the sentence to feel good on its own (or in connection with its brothers and sisters in the same paragraph). I love the process of crafting sentences, and I always seek what the “most misspelled” psychology Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi (thanks, Cal Newport) calls “flow.”

Problem is, I still don’t know how to get into flow. At least, not intentionally, consciously, deliberately. (Probably a few other adverbs I could throw in there. Side note: I kinda love using -ly words knowing I’m not supposed to.) (I also love ending sentences with a preposition. Makes me feel rebellious.) (End side note.) I only know I’ve been in that blessed state of flow when I look up after several hours of focused attention and realize I’ve lost all sense of time and space and I’ve been engrossed the whole hour-day-week. And the experience of being focused on my joyous work has been so glorious and natural I wonder where I’ve been the whole time and why I’m not there always.

For the past few days, I’ve been chasing a brand-new storyline like a flame down a trail of dynamite powder in a cartoon, hoping to catch up with it before it explodes. It has been utterly exciting to watch the words pour from my fingertips on my little laptop. I know I’m nearing, if not in, that desired flow. I’m familiar enough with this feeling to have a slight fear that it will all disappear, hence I’m immediately jumping on the bandwagon and seeing where it will take me.

A fully-outlined book and ten thousand words in three days is a miracle for me. A whole new book. A new idea. And it’s pouring out joyously. It makes all the days when words are, as Geneen Roth puts it, stuck in cement around the corner, all worth it.

I’m on the bandwagon. I’m floating down the river, focusing on the water, not the rocks, and letting myself just ride.

P.S. I’m doing my best to post blogs every Wednesday and Saturday. If you want to receive an email so you’re alerted when there’s a new post, here’s the signup. This is NOT my regular newsletter, it’s just to receive my blogs delivered to your inbox.