On Saturday on the treadmill, I had two original thoughts. One pertained to the revision of the novel I plan to work on at writing retreat this next month. The other was a title for a novel I want to write. Why is this cause for celebration?
For over a week, I had remained partly under the influence of the tooth-extraction drugs. After 48 hours I wasn't fuzzy headed any more and I could everything I needed to do. But mostly I was just reacting, I wasn't generating. I experienced this difference about six weeks after I got sober in 1989. I was driving my car and I dreamed up something new to do in the classroom. And I realized I hadn't been creating much of anything for an awfully long time.
So Saturday when the title came to me (Your Lover After Me) and the idea of how to explain the detective's illogical choice in Broken Boy, I knew I was my old self again. Welcome back to me!