by Lev Raphael
Working on my most recently published book, I ran into a significant problem. To move the novel forward, I needed my protagonist to have a confrontation with a minor character. I knew what this woman’s role was in the book and how she drove the plot forward.
But the woman herself was a blank. I had no idea what she looked like, what she sounded like, what kind of house she had. None of that was real. And so I did when I’ve learned to do after many years as an author: I let go. Consciously, that is.
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