(Livejournal! You’re back! Let’s never break up again, okay?)
So late last night, I was reading through a climactic scene of Faerie Winter, as one does when writing a sequel, needing to remember just what had happened in a particular place in that book in order to make what was happening in a particular place in the third book also make sense.
When I wrote Faerie Winter, I knew nothing about what was going to happen in Faerie 3, save that Liza would return to Faerie.
Yet reading that scene more than a year after first writing it I realized, oh. That’s what was really going on there. When I wrote it, I thought I had an idea of what was going on–and I was wrong. I didn’t really understand what was happening after all, any more than Liza did.
But now I do (and I understand, too, more about a scene that goes all the way back to Bones of Faerie.) And it all fits together and makes so much sense that, you know, you’d think I planned it that way all along.
I love that.
A few days ago, I was having my obligatory this-book-is-never-going-to-come-together-and-its-so-late-in-the-process-and-it-should-all-make-sense-by-now meltdown, because all my books seem to require one.
But today … today I again love the whole process of discovery that writing is. Because, okay, it hasn’t all come together yet. But now I’m beginning to believe it will.