It might seem odd, but I love losing track of time. I mean this in the sincerest way, since that is exactly what happens when I lose my self in my writing.
I sit down at my desk and computer early in the morning to write, sometimes as early as four a.m. With a cup of coffee, of course; my brewer is always setup the night before, so I just start it up first thing when I get up—then I feed my cats, especially Banjo, who is screaming at me for food (love all three of my fur babies!).
Some might call me an insomniac, but I know better. My involvement—my excitement—with my characters and with the story line is intense. An aphrodisiac of sorts; my Muse on steroids.
Take this morning for example. I poured my first cup of coffee at 6:30, drank most of it over the next half hour. When I next picked it up for a sip, it was ice cold. It was ten a.m.
I went in the kitchen to pour another cup, and I had “been gone” for too long. The coffee was burnt, and I dumped it.
At that moment I realized I didn’t need that second cup after all. My energy level—I was experiencing a natural high, losing track of time. This a phenomenon known by some as having ink in your blood.
I have it. How about you?