Life seems to happen in little chapters, but it is hard to say who is writing the text sometimes. A few months ago I picked up my guitar and practiced every day for about three weeks. I learned (was learning?) some songs and moving past the threshold I was stuck at for 29 years and then something happened and that little chapter was closed. Maybe 3 weeks is a paragraph and not a chapter. Sometimes it feels like I’m writing my story in the first person and dictating the action,and other times life is clearly being acted upon me in the dispassionate 3rd person. I have been on a run of good paragraphs for the most part this summer, and so I am ready to push the action towards the denouement and see how things turn out for the protagonist, but I just have to live it out a page at a time like everybody else.
I hope Stephen King isn’t writing this story.