In writing, just like in all other arts, in between that sublime moment of inspiration and putting things into shape lays the assiduous act of creation.
While there are infinite possibilities of telling a story – the shape you are so willing to release into the world – you can only choose one. The best one. After writing and re-writing a text for a few times, how can you be sure the latest version really is the best one, the one that can best serve your story? Well, you can’t be sure, really. Tomorrow, when you go through your text again, you might find a better way of expressing that idea, or some more inspired words to say the same thing. And just when you thought you were done with that chapter, you are back into re-writing it. “Is this ever going to end?” you ask yourself. Not really. But you can decide that’s the final shape of it, and move on.
One day, however, when you’ll be reading something you wrote a couple of months ago, you are sure to feel the magic. Beyond those unnecessary adjectives – you make a mental note to erase some of them once you finish reading the entire piece – and beyond that punctuation dilemma – is it really allowed to place that comma over there? – well, beyond all these, you are sure to feel the magic: it’s the satisfaction of the story you managed to give shape, with your own hands, previously filtered through your own brains and heart. And there it goes, your story, wandering free around the room, making you smile, and making you shiver. Who knows, maybe one day it will be ready to be released into the world, as a bird set free onto the sky.