Trusting the Magic

I've been forging ahead on a contracted novel lately even though I've known it's missing a key element, some critical bit of backstory that forms a linchpin needed to hold the whole darned book together. A while back, this would have stopped me dead, and I have to admit that even now, it's still bugged me because no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't come up with anything that "felt" right. Nothing even close, and as the pages began to mount up, I started to get this sinking feeling that I'd reach the end and still not be able to come up with an answer that felt just out of reach, like one of those maddening words on the tip of the tongue.

But I have this deadline looming, so I kept forging ahead because I've learned to trust the magic that lets me write a book without really understanding how. I've learned to trust in the mystery of good ideas, which come from heaven only knows where. I'm afraid if I ever looked into the process too closely, I'd be carving up the goose of my subconscious, and no more golden eggs would be forthcoming.

Today, that old goose grunted out a nice one, and I'm grateful for the gift, even if I don't quite get the mechanism. But something tells me it never would have happened had I quit working and sat around waiting for the inspiration to strike, that the sweat of my brow lubed Ms. Goose's innards and got the magic working.

So if you're stuck today, keep moving. You never know what little treasures your efforts may shake loose.