Getting the good stuff

Not much to post tonight except to say I've been on a manic roll this week, spending quality time with my characters, watching as they come to life before my eyes.  I am in that stage so many writers talk about where they profess to be not creating the material but simply channeling it like some kind of spiritual medium, the creative output so strong it could only be attributed to some external or other-worldly source. I tend to credit the subconscious, though what the connections are, what the material spewing forth at this point in time truly means to me is not yet clear. And this is one of those unique things I love about writing: I sit here, thoughts moving so fast my fingers can barely keep up, entire scenes playing out as clearly as if on TV, characters speaking, experiencing, feeling, and all of it fitting so nicely into the framework of the specific needs of this specific story (not just acting of their own random accord), that soon, maybe weeks from now, months, hell, maybe years, I'm going to look onto those collective writing choices and find something keenly revealing about myself: a reflection of what I was going though at that stage of my life, or maybe something I had experienced previously that finally bubbled forth and found an opportunity to be heard no matter how displaced within my fiction.  Two joys of writing--the creation of the text (the fiction), and the discovery of the personal subtext (the deep underlying fact often hiding behind the lie). That's the good stuff.