“I'm not afraid of dying/but I am afraid of you.” –the Proclaimers

I just had the weirdest experience. I was working on my novel, writing a scene that's either a conversion scene or the prequel to one. Now, I've no idea how to write a conversion scene, and I don't particularly want to, but it's what happens in the story, and as I'm the author of this particular story, well, it's down to me to write the scene. It fits. It's good. Plot-wise, it's earned. It's just intimidating.

My hero has just had an experience that's violently changed his worldview, though he hasn't put it in so many words yet. In fact, if it ever is "put in so many words" I just might have failed as an author. But I know that it's happened, and my audience needs to know too.

So, I'm writing about this poor, shaken fellow, who thinks that he's shaken up because of what's happening to him physically, when really what's going on inside his head and his heart is much more drastic, but I'm writing about what's happening to him physically. And, as I'm writing about what's happening to him physically, and the choice he's facing about which way to go (which will, one way or another, decide his fate), I realized, "Hey! It's a metaphor!" and I became quite foolishly delighted.

Because a metaphor is exactly what I needed, but a forced one would have been no good at all. Finding myself in the middle of one however . . . gosh. I really should stop cackling. It's not at all dignified.

Peace of Christ to you,

Jessica Snell