I dreamed about my story last night. That was… disconcerting a bit.
I am very happy that I feel like I am getting things together in such a way that I have enough structure to propel me forward but not so much that I feel trapped, locked in, and the story has nothing to tell me.
I write as much for my characters to surprise me as anything else.
It always seems so mystical and strange that the characters write the story except that for me, they do. I’m not sure how it psychologically synthesizes, but Gene told me that I needed to write his own story or the story that I told last year wouldn’t make sense.
And now I know how he afforded all those radios on that FBI salary. I always wondered.
I appreciate him letting me in on his secrets.