I’ll tell you what happens to me when I start to write a piece of long fiction (novel/novella/play) as long as you promise not to laugh (or at least, not to laugh where I can hear you).
The first thing is I start to dream as if I were the protagonist of the piece. That is a very strange feeling. I’m not dreaming about them, but as if I had their dreams in my sleep. It’s just begun to happen with a novel that I’ve been thinking about for over a year now.
The second thing is I stop wearing a watch. I don’t know why, but I do, and I don’t start wearing a watch again until the first draft is finished. Weird, yes? But it gets weirder.
The third thing is I develop an obsession completely unrelated to the subject matter I’m about to write. When I wrote about wolves my obsession was with Egyptian Dance. When I wrote about pornography it was with potager gardens. Now, as I prepare to write about autism, I have become obsessed with ….
Yes, for some reason, my mind has fixated on Japanese packed lunches! I spend all my free time (okay, all my procrastination time) scouring the internet for recipes or looking at bento boxes on eBay (and the UK ones are all rubbish and overpriced so I can’t even bid for one) or staring at images of beautiful bento.
I don’t know why this happens. It’s a really strange and unsettling way for my mind to birfucate, but at least now I know what it means I can relax, knowing that there’s a novel about to be written.
Bento courtesy of taiyofj