Writing Lessons Learned from a Virus and a Puzzle

I’ve just recovered from a recent virus that laid me flat for over two weeks. In addition to a wicked sore throat, unstoppable cough, and absolutely no energy, I walked around in a brain fog.

When I felt well enough to be vertical, I did jigsaw puzzles in spurts throughout the day. This is what this virus and my jigsaw puzzles taught me about writing.

Sometimes Pieces Just Come Along and Fit

I finished three puzzles in the course of the two weeks. The first one went together in my usual process: complete as much of the outside frame as possible, look for similar colors, examine pieces for notable details or distinctive shapes and try, try, try.

But the second puzzle was different. As I picked up a piece, it seemed to lead my hand to the place it belonged. It was effortless. It was easy. It was scary. What power did this puzzle hold that this process became so effortless?

Isn’t that what happens with writing sometimes? You’re in the zone and the ideas are flowing. Your fingers can’t type fast enough. You abbreviate some things so you don’t lose the flow of ideas. You sing praises to your muse and realize—at last—you’ve uncovered the secret of the greats. Writing will no longer be a chore. You have arrived!! You’ve discovered the lost secret of the fountain of truth about writing.

That’s how I felt when I wrote The Cavanaugh House—like the book wrote itself. Like that story had lived within me my whole life, and I had finally set it free to live on paper. But that secret went away. Like Brigadoon or Shangri-La.

Sometimes Pieces Don’t Fit Right Away, but I Don’t Mind

Rich bought me the third puzzle and it’s my favorite puzzle ever. I love the colors, I love the Paris scene, I love the people in the puzzle out for the evening along the streets of Paris.

Doing this puzzle was a delight. Pieces weren’t falling into place as they had in the previous puzzle, but every piece made sense. There was no confusion about where each belonged because the colors and images were so unique.

That’s what happens when I write a story I absolutely love. I could spend hours with the characters and the plot because they all make so much sense. They know where they belong and the scenes flow naturally along.

And when I’m not  writing the characters and their story, I’m thinking about it. I’m dreaming about it. And I love being there. I just have to let Boris, my muse, lead me along the way.

That’s how writing Love’s Courage felt. I loved the week I spent in Williamsburg  researching the colonial era and the setting. I loved every visit I made to the Colonial Williamsburg website and historical websites along the way.

Sometimes I Finish and There’s a Piece Missing

When I completed the first puzzle, a piece was missing. As I stared at the empty spot (an edge piece, no less) I thought about writing. Sometimes, in the course of drafting a story, a piece is missing when you get to the end.

Actually, for many writers, the story is never finished. There’s always another piece that could be added. Readers sometimes ask me, “How do you know when the story is finished?” That’s a difficult question to answer. How does an artist know it’s her last stroke of color in a painting? You just know.

And sometimes, after you send it off, you wonder if there’s a piece missing. Maybe one more scene. Maybe one more stroke of color. I read a quote once that said deadlines were invented so authors would finish their books. There might be more missing pieces out there than we know.

When I finished Love’s Destiny, I thought the story was complete, but there were a lot of pieces missing. My publisher asked me for a sequel. When I wrote Love’s Spirit, I had a sense of contentment. I didn’t lose any pieces to that story.

Sometimes I Have to Turn Pieces Upside Down

I was working with a piece that was an exact match for the color in that area of the puzzle. It had a squiggly tale and an oversized head and I knew it had to fit right there. I tried a few times, put it down, it called me back. Try, try, try. Finally, I turned it upside down and it almost jumped into place on its own.

Sometimes when I’m writing, an idea, a piece of dialogue, a bit of exposition, just doesn’t quite fit. I have to turn it upside down like a scene in Buried Secrets when I was struck with a “What If” question that turned my plot upside down and sent me in a direction I never knew I was headed. I don’t want to give a spoiler, but it has to do with Jesse at the hospital 😉

I have to admit that I impressed myself with these deep thoughts as I sat in a brain fog turning pieces around to fit in the right place. I also know that these “aha moments” are a metaphor for life. But that’s too big a project for my brain right now.