So, here we are, doing another basic freewrite. A supposed fluid stream of thoughts, when in fact I take great pauses.
I've done freewrites for stories. Indeed, half my novel is a freewrite, having written over 75,000 words in one month's time. No wonder it is hell to edit/revise.
This isn't really supposed to be about freewriting, per se, but I couldn't escape talking about them.
When we did the "morning pages", an exercise in "The Artist's Way", it was basically a three page freewrite every day. Wonder what all I had to say. The Artist's Way -- never got through it entirely, I don't think. Something about it bugged me.
It stormed today. Good lightning and cracking thunder. Rain came too.
I keep looking at the clock, hoping the ten minutes is up. Observe the cat (Sapphire). Thus are my mental pauses.