This experience of getting so lost in my writing that I lose track of time, or of anything outside the imagined world, is a release for me.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
I think that all writing is in search of lost time. I'm starting to realise that very clearly.
If I couldn't get published tomorrow I'd still be writing. It's something to do with feeling so overwhelmed by this experience of life that you have to tell someone about it, and in a way that reorders the experience to make it manageable.
I think after you write something and you're finished with it, there is a sense of loss. That this is a world I can't really re-enter the way that I could when I was working on it. The covers of the book close it to the writer.
Everything that I write is sort of autobiographical, and I don't know that I'm getting better, but I'm certainly running out of time.
When I write, I get glimpses into future novels.
I have a great many shortcomings, but writing for something on time has never bothered me.
I felt that I had to write. Even if I had never been published, I knew that I would go on writing, enjoying it and experiencing the challenge.
There are days where I lose track of time, of place, of everything else, because I've been transported to another universe.
I had a strong desire to write and some free time.
I left my job in the fall, and now I can set my life up around writing instead of squeezing writing into my day; it's amazing to have that time, and I feel very lucky.
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