Getting lost can be its own reward. Yesterday, I went with a friend on a walk through Shevlin Park. There are several trails I'd wanted to check out, and I finally had time to do so. Except our five mile walk turned into nearly twice that due to some faulty trail side maps (or my poor sense of direction.) But instead of bemoaning our fate, my friend and I enjoyed the woods, taking in the blue sky, the cooling breeze, and the lush greenery despite the high desert.
The quickest path between two points is a straight line, but sometimes the most enjoyable path can be a curled and twisted trail.
When I start writing a book, I know how it begins and how it ends. I try to have a vague understanding of how the middle will play out, but more often than not the characters develop their own story as they go. I'd like to think I'm in command of my fiction, but the truth is I'm not. Whether one could attribute the confusion to the voices in my head or the creative process is up to debate. (grin) But the fact is, I've often tried to outline my work, only to have to scrap chapters or redo my efforts when the story just isn't working--because the characters don't like it.
Sounds crazy, but I've written enough to know what works for me and what doesn't. So I look for those shortcuts which actually take me longer to travel, and in the doing, I mine creative gems amidst the journey. I'm a pantser with a dash of plotter. A storyteller who lets her fingers fly and reads whatever lands on the page. A fun and surprising way to write, for sure.
My deep thoughts on for a Monday morning. Now, time for coffee...