Shortly after I wrote my comment on Anna’s post last night (the one about the joys of being unable to think about anything other than one’s work), I went for a walk on the beach. The stars were out, and I was, as usual, thinking about my novel, my new one – really concentrating on it, concentrating so hard that I walked off the edge of a jetty (thinking the beach was on the other side) – it was, but about four feet below me. I stepped into air, like those cartoon characters.
Only I didn’t walk on air the way they do – I fell, heavily. I must have put my foot out, expecting it to stop on the sand a foot or so below – and when it landed on air, lost my balance. As I fell, my head, elbow, and back crashed into the wooden wall of the jetty. This really hurt!
It’s the kind of thing that happens a lot when I’m really into a book…but I don’t think (for me) there is any other way to write novels, useful as it would to be more balanced, literally and metaphorically.