Postcard from the Front Lines

Sometimes, towards the end of a project, I get into this weird headspace where I can't do anything but write. I'm done for the day, I've made my word count and I just can't stand to sit at my desk for one more minute, but I have no idea what else to do with myself. I walk around, picking up books and putting them down. Staring at DVD cases but never actually watching anything. Eventually I find myself drifting inevitably back to the desk. Just to make some notes, or jot down a few random lines of dialog. I had the word "PULQUE!" written on the back of my hand when I got up this morning because I woke up in the middle of the night with this idea for a scene where my foxy Mexican huntress teaches the Winchester boys how to spit the last swig of pulque into the shape of a scorpion. I have no idea if this scene will even make it into the final version of the book or not, and it doesn't really matter. My point is just how weird this process feels sometimes, how it gets so deep under my skin.

Well, back at...