i had one of those moments today, the kind that reminds you of why you slave away day after day at this torture called writing.
i’d felt for a while that something was missing from my book, though i couldn’t quite figure out what it was. so i opened up a new document, spent a moment just spacing out and channeling my characters, and wrote. and wrote and wrote, by instinct, somewhat by design, but mostly just what felt right. i trusted in my characters; they did not let me down. I reread the piece, somewhat nervously now that the euphoria of writing had passed, but i was surprised by the result.
i ended up with one of those keystone chapters that tie in some of the essential themes of story. Somehow, the pieces fell in together and the grain lay smooth. i don’t know quite how i did it though the experience has made me a firm believer in the strength of the subconscious. of course it needs editing and polishing, but the bones are there.
this comes at a good time for me. i’ve been despairing lately on the sisyphean task of rewriting. but these little moments, when the magic happens as if of its own accord make it all worthwhile and let you believe, at least in the universe you created, life has purpose and beauty.