I believe there is something we writers are collectively seeking. We are all attempting to convey an experience, a true moment, to tell a story that somehow reveals more than what we thought we knew. We are seeking to write something that, after having written it, we can ask without guile, “Where did that come from?”
I wrestled for a little over a decade with trying to do it my way. But I couldn’t. It was only after I had what I call a “third act experience” that I began to glimpse the mystery. The story is being told through me. My technique or skill as a writer seems connected simply to my capacity for wonder. It depends on my willingness to be curious, to question everything, and to never settle for convention.
The end of the second act is an important moment. Our protagonist lets go of his idea of what he thinks he wants. He sees its impossibility under his current circumstances. I think of this surrender as being like a coin with two sides. We surrender because we have no choice. Recognizing the impossibility of ever getting what we want, we then let it go. We let go of the pain of our desire, which does not mean that we give up our wanting. Instead, our protagonist reframes his want. He gives it a different meaning. Thus, it becomes possible for him to get what he wants (if it belongs in his life).
The creative act seems to demand of us in some way to be just a tiny bit more humble than we were yesterday. Humility has nothing to do with feeling small or humiliated. Humility is about being restored to reality, and the reality (as I see it) is that we are all simply channels for the divine. The divine is not a specific voice, it is the power of the sun as it passes through us, lighting us from within. When we approach story in this way, we maintain an objective distance and are able to explore with great specificity the reality of our fictive-world, and our work becomes a gift, a roadmap for whomever wishes to make use of it.