Yeah.

That's where I've been.

Deep in the story.

So deep that this morning when I was driving to work, thinking of upcoming scenes and additions to those already written, I realized I was driving to the WRONG FRICKIN' CITY.

On the wrong highway. In nearly the opposite direction.

Yeah.

That's what it's like to be in the zone.

Lost. Buried deep.

So wrapped up with the characters and their catastrophic lives that I have trouble extricating myself.

I can feel them in the background while I'm at work, or meeting social obligations, or with family.

Calling me. Begging me to get their story down and share with the world their angst and tragedies, their joys and loves.

The story I'm working on now is about Taz and how he became the unfeeling, distant bastard that he is. His music is mostly Coldplay (their more somber tunes), and his song is Amsterdam.

So…

My apologies to those of you waiting for workshop reports, or for me to read and give you feedback on your latest fiction.

I'll get to you – I promise.

But right now I need to go.

Taz is calling me.