I love moments in writing a story when pieces fall into place in my head. Sometimes it causes me to re-write everything because my understanding of characters and situations shifts. Sometimes loose elements fall together and I realize they’re part of the same story. Sometimes the plot falls together and I can suddenly see my way clear through the end. That moment of synergy is wonderful. It happened with Bethan’s Garden. I was half way through the story and I still didn’t know why Hanna was even in the city other than that I needed her to be so the story could happen. Then a realization unfolded in my head I knew why she was there and the whole story shifted in such a way that it was stronger.
I had another such moment this evening. I’ve had a new story brewing for weeks now. But mostly I had random elements, I didn’t have a plot, I didn’t have a character arc. Now I do and I can actually start putting words on paper. Hurray for that creative, synergistic process that goes on in the back of my brain when I’m not paying attention.
I think I know what you mean. A writer friend of mine, James Maxey, expressed the experience this way:
“I think the closest thing to magic in this world comes through the process of creation. Whether painting, singing, building a birdhouse, writing–in the best moments you tap into something, something Thompson called ‘the main nerve,’ and you practically vibrate with the power of pulling something out of nothing…. I’ve had moments when I’m writing when I vanish–the story already exists–it’s simply borrowing me to bring itself into the world” (You can read his whole post here)
Even though I’m jealous of James for describing the creative process more beautifully than I ever could, I’ve adopted it as my inner vision of “the way writing works.” It’s those moments that keep me writing after twelve hours of wrestling with The Story that Wouldn’t Come.