Creative writing is like doing a jigsaw puzzle. Except all the pieces are inside your head, and so you can’t actually see them.
This means, you can’t tell what shape they are, and whether or not they’ll fit with the piece you’ve just placed on the board or in the top right-hand corner (everyone knows you look for the corners first, right?).
The upside is that if a piece doesn’t fit you can have a go at reshaping it until it does. The danger, though, is that you’ll reshape it right out of existence, losing track of how it originally looked.
Sometimes I sit and stare at the computer or out of the window and just hope for a piece to fall into place, because there doesn’t seem to be any way for me to get it otherwise. Other times, the right piece seems to be to hand just when I need it, and I can’t get it on to the board fast enough.
You drive me crazy sometimes, but the feeling of satisfaction I get when the puzzle is complete (or even just the top right-hand corner) is like nothing else.