Self-defeat at bedtime. Doubt. A brain filled with “you’ll never….” An internal blow to ego that thudded so loudly it woke me just 90 minutes from shutting my eyes. A feeling I refused, that I pushed away, even as I felt it.
A self-indulgent sleeping-in, unlike me. And then the Wow.
A quiet wow. Nearly invisible. The sun coming out in my head. The cleaning of the inner picture window.
I blew-off of the morning miles…didn’t need them. I felt as if someone was guiding me to a destination but wouldn’t say where.
Suddenly, I knew the answer to a question I hadn’t known how to ask.
Seems scarily simple, this: The moving of an idea to a place earlier in the book that made one why after another fall into place…and made the idea’s original home seem richer. Some folks call this an “ahahhhh moment.” Too quiet for that. Usually I HATE moving backward. In anything. But I know that every change that the new placement demanded slotted easily into place–round pegs into round holes, as if the adjustment had been designed for it.
Am I at the stage in the book where anything short of toilet paper stuck to the bottom of my shoe would be acceptable? I don’t think so. I hope not. Fact is, sometimes we just don’t know.
I know how the change made me feel; what it brought alive and how it glued plot elements together. I know that it imparted a sense of inevitability to a sub-plot that that had been wandering along in its own direction. I know that I wrote in a state of breathlessness from morning to afternoon, unable to stop and that the idea was the propulsion.
A day with unexpected energy. A day with Wow in it. They can’t all be like this. But that’s what we work for, isn’t it?