Recently I made a list of every chapter in my proposed book. To date I’ve written just over a third of them. At first, deciding which chapter to tackle was easy. I had good stories in mind—the stories that inspired the book—each of which illustrated a clear point. And, I had written those stories before, some of them many times, in various forms.
This week I find myself in the exciting position of not knowing what lies ahead. I look at each remaining title, my thirteen as-yet-unwritten chapters, as if I’m peering into a fog. I can’t see anything clearly; rather, large shapes come into view one by one as I move forward through the mist. The details are completely elusive. This lack of clarity is not scary or tiresome; rather, it creates atmosphere, like fog on the Savannah marsh. I like it. In fact, I think I almost prefer this misty haze to a crystal clear sunny day. There is excitement in not knowing.