And that is indeed the whole point.
We scribble, we strive, we do all of this to achieve this seminal singular moment in the space time continuum.
Both we and the reader sit there with bated breath, edge of our seat (metaphorically and literally).
I, the scribbler of this tale, have no more notion of what is going to happen than you, the reader, do.
My imagination is racing the same (similar) fanciful scenarios as yours.
I am a gardener (not like the ones in The Year after The Flood – thank you Margaret Atwood), a pantster kinda writer.
Some plot meticulously, some know each twist turn, every phrase that will be uttered – me I have no more idea what’s behind the door than the reader does…
Okay, by the time the reader picks up the manuscript I know what’s happened – so let’s not get too carried away with the analogy – suffice to say when I write I am like the reader on the same voyage of discovery.
And I like it!
I get the thrill writing, that I hope you get reading.
Sometimes that thrill gets lost, misplaced, forgotten about – and those are dark Mordoresq days.
But passion wins in the end, the love of the craft overcomes everything, and once again we sit with our inane grin beaming back at the flickering cursor.
So, buckle up fellow travellers – we have our mojo back, adventure awaits, and we have just taken delivery of a brand-new Pith Helmet!!!