Today I’ve been thinking something small about writing, though it is actually quite big.
It seems I can know in my heart something about a character or a story and fail to transfer it to the page.
When it comes to revising, I’m always worried that I won’t know how to fix what is wrong. Sometimes or most of the time (just not all the time), I find that the key to a locked door is to bring to the surface what I’ve always known to be true about a person, place, or thing.
It’s funny to me that I forget to share what I know best. That I am blinded by what I’ve always seen.