after many years of waking up, going to work, getting fired, finding new job, getting up, going to work, position eliminated, worrying about money, looking for work, getting up, not having job, worrying about money, doing things out of obligation, going to work, fitting everything else in due to fear of not having money, getting up, going to work, blah blah blah... I finally reached a point of total lack of interest in work, of accomplishing anything in the world because it had become so wonderful to just BE alive and in the world... this short-lived, but lasting experience propelled a new path. the thought of writing came and many months later i found myself writing and unable, or rather, unwilling to stop. when i was done, I had 40 or so stories, all with their own beginning, middle and end. later the thought came to combine them into one story which meant major rewrites, etc... and on and on... next thing i knew, i had a book.
Memories of the time i spent writing are gone for me. it is like i didn't actually do it.. i am unable to recall anything but short and simple glimpses... unlike my working life where i can recall and feel, all of the projects, work, hours, etc. so wonderful.