Musings of Discovery

There's a certain something about the discovery of writing.  It's fascinating.  It's discouraging.  It's enlightening, joyful, draining, beautiful...I can't quite put my finger on it. 

As I go throughout my day I visit with the characters that make themselves known to me.  I look around an see places they might have visited while in Santa Barbara.  I overhear a snippet of conversation, or hear a tone of voice and dialogue immediately races through my head. 

And then I sit down at my computer.  I open up my word document to a new page, fresh with possibility.  Or I open my current story and reread what I have written, hoping to discover more of the people and places.  There's always something new to discover, just like in real life.  Sometimes I hate the discovery - I put one story on hold for two weeks when I realized where it was going.  Sometimes I have a "well, DUH" moment - I text a friend and tell them that I was obviously wrong about this thing and here is the real version.  I have moments of extreme excitement - I have a big smile and have to take a break to dance around the living room.

Regardless of how I feel when I make this discovery, I can't deny the thrill that comes with it.  It's as if I find myself constantly walking through an enchanted forest, pulling back the branches to reveal the light, unsure of whether I will uncover monster or fairy.  And every time something is written, every time I stumble upon another discovery, a part of me is changed forever.  I can't say for certain if it is changed for better or for worse - I am sure in some ways it is both.  All I can say for sure is in that moment things are just a bit clearer.

I suppose C.S. Lewis stated it best when he said, "First, I do not sit down at my desk to put into verse something that is already clear in my mind. If it were clear in my mind, I should have no incentive or need to write about it. We do not write in order to be understood; we write in order to understand."