In The Zone

This morning as I was arranging shells on the living room floor with my little girl, I found myself withdrawing….zoning out. It wasn’t lack of coffee or lack of sleep. It wasn’t boredom. It was me getting into the zone. The Writing Zone.

But only when it doesn't interfere with life

Let me explain.

When I start to feel the words coming together, forming sentences and ideas I tend to withdraw and somewhat become unable to participate in normal human activities. It is a feeling I can’t control. It’s automatic. It’s almost like my sole purpose in life, at that given moment, is to just retire from company and write. No one is discriminated against it. You could be the President, the Prime Minister, the Queen or my Auntie Jack. If I get in the zone, you gonna get ignored baby.

It’s particularly irritating when I am in conversation with someone. And they might be telling me a secret or an important event that has happened. If I get inspired by this conversation and a lightbulb moment strikes…..and that lightbulb moment goes beyond jotting down ideas in my notebook well, truth be told, that conversation is significantly stuffed. Because I will not be there. I can’t tell you for what length of time – that depends on the level of inspiration and how hard it has hit me – but I can guarantee that all you’ll hear from me are muffled ‘uh-huh”s and ‘mmmm”s for a little while. If you ask me a question, I may give a generic answer. And this will come across as incredibly rude. I don’t like it but as I said before, I can’t control it.

Take this morning for example. My poor daughter was the recipient of this annoying habit. Poor little sweetie just wanted to play with her mummy and I’m sitting there half-heartedly picking out shells from her bucket and placing them on the floor like a robot nanny. No enthusiasm whatsoever. I was somewhere else entirely. Desperate for some time alone so I could get in front of the computer and write.

And until alone time is actualised, life around me becomes oblivious. I am the only person alive. My surroundings melt away and I am walking alone. My only cure is to put pen to paper. Fingers to keyboard.

And until this happens I will (annoyingly) be off with the literary fairies.

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About Virginia

Writer, reader, crossword puzzler and conspiracy theorist.

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