This morning I wrote an essay inspired by the deaths of Whitney Houston and Mary Kennedy. I had been thinking about them, but hadn’t plan to write anything and certainly not this morning when I had two editorial letters to write and a half dozen manuscripts to read. When I looked up, I had six pages and two hours had gone by. Blip. The question is: is the piece any good? WHen something comes out in a rush of energy, it’s easy to get carried away, think it’s better than it is. I guess the real test would be to send it out. Are rejections and acceptances the only gauge? What about personal satisfaction. What about those two hours spent so happily in Neverland. Does that count?
Does that happen to you? Time disappears when you’re writing? Does it get any better?
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