Sometimes I want to be writing a YA novel, and I move deeply into a scene, sure of what I’m doing, and all is well.
Sometimes I want to be writing simply a novel, a novel I would find on a shelf and read, so then I must be writing literary fiction, and I move deeply into a scene, more sure now of what I’m doing, and all is well.
Sometimes I don’t know at all what I’m writing. I look at the words. And I have no idea what to call them.
Sometimes I want to define it. I’d know which way to end it then.
Sometimes I want to keep going and surprise myself by the ending and then just have whoever reads it tell me what they think it is.
Sometimes I wish I could be sure of just this one thing. It seems like a simple proposition: What I am writing as I sit here writing it. Do I not even know what’s right in front of my eyes?