As I sat at Starbucks today, working on an extensive rewrite of Chapter 23, Scene 1, I had no idea what to do with it. Should it be this, or should it be that? Should I tell, or should I show? I stared into space, watched people come and go, and left myself open to whatever happened.
Before long, I had a sentence. And another. And another.
At some point, the sentences no longer came. So I went back to my first sentence–because I knew it was better than what I had before but still not right–and I played around with it. I changed the order of items in it, that word here and that word there. Then I moved on to the next sentence and did the same.
By the time I got to the third sentence, I sensed I should break it out into a separate paragraph and elaborate on the idea. I wrote several more new sentences, all related to the opening one.
I kept going, this time getting not only as far as the first time, but a little further, with another sentence suggesting itself to me. I knew it wasn't quite right, but I wrote it down anyway. Having something down is better than having nothing down at all. Gives me more to play with.
Once again, the new sentences stopped coming, and I went back over what I had to that point, changing what I still didn't like, the structure of what I had so far. From past experience, I knew reviewing everything again might take me into yet more uncharted territory.
And it did.
This is what I call playing.
Playing is a lot of fun–but only if you take the time, only if you're patient, and only if you have no expectations of what might come out of it.
When in doubt, play. Be that child again. Let what happens, happen. Get out of your own way and, most important, have fun. That's what it should be.
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