This is a cautionary tale of how “the zone” or flow state can skew reality and common sense.
Several years ago, I turned the sunroom into my office. All the windows allow me a panoramic view of “Animal Planet,” the lower level of the yard where I feed my crows, ravens, jays, cardinals, barn birds, squirrels, chippies, and anyone else who needs an easy meal.
It’s my happy place.
For years, I dreaded winter. The cold weather meant I had to move my office into the spare bedroom, because my converted office had no heat. That changed with the installation of a mini split, an electrical unit for heat and AC. But they can only handle so much.
Here in New Hampshire, the recent temps plummeted to single digits with “feels like” temperatures well below zero. It’s a big ask for a mini split. But I’m stubborn, so I bundle up in warm clothes and write for as long as possible before I must grab my MacBook and head into the living room for the rest of the day.
Yesterday (as of this writing), we had one of the coldest days we’ve had all winter. Downright frigid in my office, with frost crystalized around the windows. The mini split coughed out bursts of heat in between shutdowns to gain its bearings. Didn’t matter that I cranked the thermostat to 76 degrees.
The unit basically told me to pound sand. “Be happy with what I give you.”
Fair enough.
I’m at a point in the WIP where I’ve reached total obsession. You know that point in every project where things gel easier, words flow, excitement builds, milestones/goalposts whip by with less effort? Uh-ha, that’s the place. I’ve also had two scenes rolling around my head for days—weeks?—but it wasn’t time to write them yet.
There’s nothing wrong with jumping ahead to write a specific scene. Sometimes, I do the same. My preference is to let the scenes simmer inside me till they reach a boiling point. If my and my character’s obsession align, all that pent-up anticipation transfers to the page.
If you haven’t experienced this mild form of psychological torture, it’s effective. At least, it is for me.
Ahem. Anyway…
When my husband left for work at 4:30 a.m., I ventured into my office with a hot tea and the expectation that I’d only write at my desk till sunrise, then I’d snuggle up by the wood stove with my MacBook.
The first time I noticed the clock it read 10:30 a.m. But I was mid-scene. I couldn’t switch to my MacBook now. If I’m on a roll, I’ll never mess with the mojo that got me there.
Yes, I know how superstitious that sounds. Don’t we all have a few weird writing quirks?
The next time I glanced up from the screen, the clock read 2:30 p.m. But again, I was midway through another scene and not willing to risk losing momentum. At this point, I was also super high on craft and probably not in any condition to make decisions about my well-being, with serotonin, adrenaline, and dopamine coursing through my system. 😉
There I stayed in a suspended state of euphoria till the sun lowered toward the horizon. And I marveled at the pink sky interspersed with violet hues.
All my animal pals returned to their burrows, trees, and nests, the lower level now devoid of wildlife.
Still, I ignored the darkness swallowing daylight, my complete focus on the screen, my fingers barely able to keep up with the enticing hum of neurons firing.
When my husband returned from running errands after work, he strode into my cold, dark office. “Step away from the desk, honey. Now. That heater shut off hours ago.”
“It did?”
“Must’ve. It’s freezing in here.”
“Is it?”
I never once felt cold. Not once. I was so immersed in my story world, and drunk on intoxicating hormones, I left New Hampshire before dawn. All day I’d been chasing bad guys through the woods of Montana, dodging bullets and encounters with predators. I laughed. I cried. I feared. I rejoiced. I experienced the entire spectrum of emotions right alongside my characters from dawn to dusk.
It wasn’t till I strolled into the warm living room that I felt the first pang of stiffness, muscle aches, and joint pain.
What can we learn from this, kiddies?
There are worse ways to die. Kidding.
Sort of.
Clear Takeaways
- Don’t sacrifice your wellbeing, or safety.
- The human body needs blood flow. Get up and move.
- The mind is a beautiful place. Take good care of it.
- You only get one life. Don’t sacrifice a second.
- Lastly, take the time to admire the natural beauty around you, like sunrises and sunsets.
Do I regret it?
The correct answer is yes, but I don’t. Not one bit. Those chapters rock. 😉 Do as I say, not as I do.
Have you ever gotten “lost” while writing? Tell us about it.
No, dang it, because my writing time is so limited between work, family, theatre, and music commitments. But I’m very much looking forward to experiencing that. It sounds like heaven.
That day was heaven. I paid for it after, though. 😀
Good for you and I’m so thrilled when a writer gets a day in the zone! It’s so awesome to just disappear into your story world.
I confess, I haven’t had a good solid zone time like that for over 10 years. Some smaller, less intense zone moments, yes. But that total immersion moment like you describe? Not since circa 2010-ish. Have been thinking about that recently and am hoping 2024 will provide some good opportunities for zone moments.
I’m still buzzing from that day! The zone is addictive, isn’t it? Hope you get back there soon!
Yes, I’ve gotten lost writing and was late for work! I’ve since then learned to set an alarm every time I write if there’s somewhere I need to go.
Haha! I’ve turned steaks into dust on the grill when I told myself, “I’ll only write for a few minutes.” LOL
Did Bob speak in a low, menacing cop voice when he said, “Step away from the desk, honey. Now.” ??? 😉
That’s deeper in the zone than I’ve ever gotten, Sue. Sounds a little scary. Hope you’re not feeling the aftereffects too badly. Remember, my friend, if your fingers fall off from frostbite, you can’t type.
Various internal and external alarm systems go off periodically:
Thirty minutes after writing session starts, get rid of coffee.
An hour later, Arthuritis comes to call. Run up and down stairs to escape him.
An hour later, first squirrel arrives for breakfast; get up and serve him.
Three minutes later, next squirrel arrives for breakfast; get up and serve her.
Two minutes later, first squirrel climbs the screen and glares at me; get up and serve him.
An hour later, Arthuritis returns. I ignore him until the story gets stuck in a corner; go for a walk; escape from Art, find story solution, rush home to the computer.
When the eyes are too blurry to read words on the screen, it’s quitting time for the day.
I spend a lot of time in the zone but learned the hard way that, for the mind to do its job, I gotta take care of the body. If I don’t, I pay the price. It’s a delicate balancing act.
Haha! Bob used an authoritative tone, which is the only reason he captured my attention.
Wise advice, Debbie. I usually get up and walk every 30 minutes or so, but that day, even when I ran to the bathroom or grabbed a bottled water, I wasn’t “really” in my house at all. But I did pay for it afterward so… I learned my lesson (in theory). 😉
Love that you get up for each new squirrel that arrives!
I’ve had ‘big’ writing days, but nothing like that. My watch tells me to get up every hour. The dog insists on attention.
Our furnace does a fine job in sub-zero temperatures, but I also have a space heater in my office. No need for a/c up here.
Last year, I had a space heater under my desk, but I never replaced after it died. No clue why. The furnace and wood stove work great in the house, not so great making it into my office. Today, we’re expected to rise into the thirties. It’ll feel downright balmy after a week of that negative crap. LOL
I’m in Montana. Our windows iced over on the inside about ten days ago. We couldn’t open any of them. I’ve been in that zone and loved it, but also paid the price. We’ve had our daughter and grandson living with us for ten months now, so I haven’t had many writing days at all. I hope to get back to it soon.
I’m having a blast in your beautiful state, Michelle. I loved every second of that day, but I also paid the price afterward. *sigh*
Hope you get back to the zone soon!
Yes, Sue, I’ve had flow states where I look up an wonder where two hours went. But then I groan getting out of the chair. As has been mentioned, it’s a good idea to move the bod around every 30 minutes or so…but when you’re in flow, you don’t want to break the “spell.”
You don’t even have to be typing. I remember once being at Starbucks looking out the window at the parking lot, but I wasn’t looking AT the parking lot, I was looking at the scenes playing out in my head, until someone (this is absolutely true) came over to me and asked, “Are you all right?”
“What? Oh, yes, yes, I’m fine.”
“Oh good. You weren’t moving for so long and I thought you might need help.”
Haha! Been there, too. My husband says I look straight through people or objects while I’m writing in my head. Freaks him out at times. To a non-writer, it looks like we’re having mental difficulties, when nothing could be farther from the truth.
Even when I ran to the bathroom or fridge that day, my mind never left the zone. Love when that happens!
Hmm. I’m more familiar with “The Zone” in athletics. Pele, in his memoir❇, tells of finding himself in the Zone during a 1958 World Cup Finals match with Sweden, a feeling of euphoric invincibility–not mere confidence, but utter certainty of scoring.
“Have you ever gotten “lost” while writing? Tell us about it.”
I’ve only attained the athletic Zone once, that I can recall. It is largely a feature of the so-called “Unconscious.” As such, we can enter and leave it without full awareness, in a dream-state. I’ve found entire stories on my hard drive, apparently written previously in the nighttime, with no memory of doing so. “Wounded Dove” was 2400 words, told in first person, a departure from my norm.
I’ve mentioned the Zone’s mechanism in an unread comment on Sue’s previous post:
http://killzoneblog.com/2024/01/who-is-in-control-of-what-you-do.html#comment-125025
❇ ”My Life and the Beautiful Game,” written with Robert L. Fish, [Copyright 1977 by Licensing Corporation of America]
I’m so sorry I missed your comment, J. Fascinating info. Thanks for the link! Looking forward to reading your articles about the zone.
Through research for my last post, I learned many professionals experience the zone (business types prefer “flow state” apparently). It’s a cool superpower we all possess, especially those within the arts or sports.
I was just late to the party that day, Sue. I know better.
Thank you. I think the most interesting article for writers would be this one: https://www.researchgate.net/publication/357163812_The_Guardienne_and_Creativity
That “flow state” nomenclature is also useful information. There’s a tendency in Psych for everyone to use different terms for the same thing. Many thanks!
Wow, Sue. That’s quite a ride on the Zone-mobile. I’ve had great zone experiences, but nothing that intense or that long.
My writing situation is similar to yours with wood heat that keeps the central part of the house toasty warm, but barely reaches my writing room which is on an outside corner with six windows. I keep styrofoam in the windows in the winter and run a ceramic heater continuously, but during our recent cold spell the temp never got above 56 degrees. I have gloves with the tips cut off for typing. I wrap up in a heavy blanket doubled over, and wear a thick stocking cap.
The next time I’m grumbling about the cold, I’ll think of you, and look for a door into the zone.
I hope you get a warm spell soon!
I have fingerless gloves, Steve, but have never used them. Is it difficult to type? Styrofoam in the windows is a neat trick. I’ll have to try that. My office is seriously lacking good insulation, which doesn’t help. The stocking cap is hilarious! You described the scene so vividly, I can picture it. LOL You definitely can relate!
When you find that door, you won’t notice the cold as much, or at all. 😉
We’re headed into the thirties today. Hallelujah!
Some of the fingerless gloves need the thumbs cut off. I’ve also found that tops of heavy stockings can be cut off and pulled over the wrists, up to the base of the palms. That makes the cold metal of a laptop more tolerable.
Reminds me of CHRISTMAS STORY and Bob Cratchit.
Good idea to cut off the thumb. Writers in warm climates must think this conversation is insane. LOL
I got a little worried when your husband said, “Step away from the desk, honey. Now.” I was afraid he was going to tell you the house was on fire or there was a giant rattlesnake coiled around your feet! So glad it was just the heater!
I’ve had a few days when the story came together and I couldn’t get it on the page fast enough, but I can’t recall having been completely immersed for as long as you were. Sounds wonderful. Stay warm and carry on.
Hahaha. Imagine? He never uses an authoritative tone with me, which is the only reason he captured my attention. LOL
Happy writing, my friend!
Wow, Sue! Now that’s what I call flow state. I’ve never been in it for that long—two hours or so is my max so far. Like Jim, in general l like to get up and move every thirty minutes or so. Certainly every hour at a minimum. Still, terrific example of the magic and power of flow state.
It’s something I look to return to a regular basis. I actually had a few minutes of it this morning. A couple of weeks ago I realized my writing had become far too left-brain dominate. I was stuck, and pulled off my copy of Ken Rand’s “From Idea to Story in 90 Seconds,” which talks about the dance between right-brain and left-brain hemispheres for we writers. It’s a slender volume and I read it in just a couple of hours. I’d actually skimmed it years ago, but I was struggling with story craft then and wasn’t ready for it.
I certainly am now. You’re right that we need to take care of our health, but being in flow state even for a couple of hours would be extremely powerful. I’d settle for thirty-to-sixty minute intervals 🙂
Hope you have a wonderful week filled with words, my friend.We’ve been rained out here for days after the arctic blast left the Pacific Northwest. Missing the Moon.
The zone is our happy place, isn’t it. And you’re right. Flow state has many health benefits, as well. The mind is so powerful. Some say, flow can improve problems like chronic pain to regulating insulin, lowering blood pressure, etc. etc. It’s amazing.
Luna just returned here after almost a week of cloud cover. I’ll tell her you say hi. xo
Thanks! 🙂 I’m still feeling the vicarious thrill of Peregrine Mission 1, which became a kind of mini, uncrewed Apollo 13 situation. The engineers extended the lander’s lifespan far beyond what was thought after the initial mishap in the craft’s propulsion system. While my writing didn’t make it to the lunar surface, traveling out to lunar distance and back again to become a shooting star over the South Pacific was pretty awesome.
Wicked awesome! Not many can say that.
Ha! Thanks for sharing this. Haven’t had this happen in writing for a long time (I’m retired from the book thing, remember?) But it was great when it did happen. I remember those rare days vividly.
I used to have this happen when I was practicing piano. I would set a goal of an hour and “suddenly” I would look up and the house is dark, the cats are staring at me with hungry eyes — and my hands would ache so much I could barely unscrunch them. Loved it.
It happens now when I garden. I can go for hours and hours. From what the farmers used to call “can see to can’t see.” My husband comes out and, like yours, lowers his voice and says, “It’s time to put down your weapons.” (Gardening is a constant war with nature).
Haha. Our spouses deserve an award!
Oh, me too. Love those days in the zone. My arthritic body doesn’t, but the rest of me craves full immersion in my story world. It’s addictive.
Love the piano. There’s something so magical about the music. I wish I kept up with my lessons. Sounds like a great way to escape.
THANKS SO MUCH for the reminder of the zone. Better than booze, drugs, errhhhm and other stuff! We were all looking at you jealously in your freezing cubicle, living in another whole space for a complete day! Just amazing! I really enjoyed it reading all about it.
The first novel I wrote, wrote itself and scared me, because it felt like somebody else had written it, and whoever they were, they weren’t too concerned with adding one tangent after another, more characters than anyone could keep track of, and/or whether one scene connected up to another. But I can say for sure that even though it was written by hand, on a long bus ride late at night after I’d started home from my third job of the day, to my freezing cold rented room, it was heavenly. One thing that has kept me away from writing for a while, is that once I’m on a roll, everything around me can go to hell in a hand-basket, and an interruption can be fatal to the project. I need to be less concerned about that. Stories must be told and cannot write themselves.
Impressive that you wrote that novel while working three jobs, Susan. Very impressive. Take pride in that. Most wouldn’t even attempt it.
Yeah, I’m the same way once I reach a certain point in the story. All I want to do is write. Being married helps to ground me. I promised my husband long ago that my nights and Sundays belong to him, and I’ve never broken that promise. If I was single? Forget about it. I’d live at the keyboard. LOL As Debbie mentioned, it’s a delicate balancing act to manage writing, health, and still be present for family and friends. Not always easy to juggle, though.
Dip your toes into the writing pond and see how it feels. Bet you’ll manage just fine, Susan.
There’s been times I have written for hours but then try to stand up and realize that wasn’t smart. I try to break every 40 minutes.
Yep. Definitely not smart to stay in one spot for hours on end. I paid dearly later that night.
In the zone, we live into infinity.
Truth!
Sounds like some of you folks need to move down South! It ain’t that cold here. You can type all day – no gloves, no blankets, no wood stoves, no icicles hanging from your nose. 🙂
Hahahaha. Touche!