I’m sure there are any number of similar analogies, but seeing as I both run and write this seems apt. In running, I find the first mile or so is rough. I’m hyper-aware of every little pain, sore, ache and twitch. My mind is still out wandering and visiting work, relationships, what to have for dinner etc. Then something magical happens. At some point everything just flows into sync. I am one with me, if I’m not sounding too new agey for you. The run smooths out, my breathing steadies and my mind goes deep. I’ve found the writing process to share many of the same characteristics, although without quite as much sweat. When I first start a new sentence, chapter, whatever, it can be a bit jarring as I search for the right path. There are invariably false starts and mistakes, but then, as with the running, something magical happens and everything just flows. Jumbled fragments of ideas suddenly coalesce into precise scenes and characters find their voices. And like running, at the end, I feel both spent and exhilarated by the experience and already looking forward to the next one.