From Where Does This Stuff Come?

Used to be that when I wrote I could identify the source and the reason for every single word and phrase. The going was slow in those days, slaving over every paragraph in hopes of getting it right, thus avoiding tedious rewrites.

Now, having learned to enjoy rewriting as much as writing, I just type onto the page the first thing that pops into my head. Surprisingly, after much practice, this method is now producing text less in need of rewriting than the old method. What's even odder is that I can't tell where any of it came from. There are some moments of recognition and remembering, but most of it seems to have sprung from nowhere.

Why does this bother me? Because, what if it isn't mine? If I don't know where it comes from, might I be stealing it from someone else? My Inner Critic won't let me believe that is all fresh, organic material harvested from a fertile imagination. So while I've managed to gag the inner critic while I'm actually writing, he comes back with a vengeance when I read what I've written. He's a tricky bastard.