I am sat beneath the ground as this is written. I am still, but the train is in motion. It speeds towards Walthamstow, where the service ends and I shall alight. (Obviously, this is posted later than now, when I write this.)
Much of this is because I have a penchant for spontaneity, especially where cocktails are involved, but mostly it appears to be an effect of TfL’s intermittent and irregular Sunday evening service. That I can write this is testament to the WordPress app’s developers, who sensibly decided that I should be able to draft offline. If I’m honest, although I could draft in a note application (ColorNote, to be precise), if I couldn’t draft offline I’d likely not be writing this. Its convenience for eating this lost time is to be lauded.
It’s not often that I think of the time I lose on public transport. I usually don’t think of it as loss. Often, I’m listening to my iPod and stifling the urge to air-guitar, especially if it’s just got to the solo of Judas Priest’s Between the Hammer and the Anvil. But currently its batteries are flat, and all I can hear is the whine of metal wheels on metal track, the whirr of unnecessary heating and no people speaking. It is this absilence that I must fill, and seeing that my subconcious is not distracted by metal, it needs to be put to other uses.
This was part of my NaNoWriMo experiment last November, to see how much I could fit into these lost minutes. Aside from a large chunk of writing completed at the write-ins, and a fair bit of catching up done at home, a lot of the half of my novel that exists now was written in transit.
A lot changed that month, and a lot has changed since then.
I ought not to forget that experiment. I can’t go online here. I’ve currently not (big) enough pockets to carry a book. My phone is always with me.
While I prefer writing first drafts pen on paper, I don’t have to. I should use more of this lost time.