Every once in awhile I work up a good steam. Not often, like, every few years. There's this perfect alignment of time, ideas, energy, and emotion.

Get all worked up.
Keyed up.
Steamed up.
Revved.
Pumped.
Blistered.
Popping.

Know what I mean? It's the jumpy feeling of an artist fixing to get ready.

It's the jive feeling that tells me I'm keyed up for a reason, that there's a path to forge.

It's happening now because there's a book brewing in my brain. A story I've been thinking about, jotting notes about, for over two years. Working up that head of steam.

The story has unfolded. From a handkerchief to a bath towel, a blanket to a tent. It's large enough for me to sit inside now, to have a good look around and see who's there and what they care about and why it's so hard for them to be happy. I'm ready to punch at the ceiling, expand the whole thing into something larger.

It's a story that takes place in the past and in the present, but it is about the future. That's why it's important to work up a good head of steam. The blast propels me into the future. If I can't see the future, then I can't write a novel.

Novels, all art, are about creating a future. A better future. Art points the way. It's the brightly lit exit sign, the giant pointing finger that says, "This way!"

It takes time to forge the path. It takes a good work up of steam. A fast start on what has already been a marathon, which will only get worse, get longer, get harder. Because the future is waiting.

I bid you good writing.