Remember when we thought about who we were? For some, I bet that was five minutes ago. For others, I refer to my post on thinking about whether you are a pantser or plotter, among other things. If you plot, you might sneer at pantsers, and if you (are a) pants(er), you might sneer at plotters.
The plotters among us say, how do you know where you are going? How do you sustain yourselves? Why do you think "Rocks fall, everybody dies" is a legitimate literary ending?
The pantsers will say, where is your spark? Where is your fire? If you color by the numbers, how do you splatter art onto your pages?
Here's the thing.
Plotters know even if they diagram every sentence before beginning, their work will at some point surprise and delight them, and that the greatest surprise will find them on the very last page.
Pantsers know even if they are surprised and delighted at every turn, the true machination of their work will reveal itself on the very last page.
We should all be surprised by our writing, and in order to be surprised, we should strive to ask questions to which we don't yet know the answer.
Above all else we write. Write to discover. Write to delight. Write to surprise. Write now.
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