Writing often seems like such a mystery.
When we read, we see the final printed page but not the person sitting alone somewhere, grappling with words. We turn the page of an article without knowing when and where the writer noticed a nub of an idea, or how the writer pulled at the threads and then wove a story. When I marvel at a writer's surprising turn of phrase, I wonder if those words just leapt out at the writer, or if she or he stayed up all night pleading for inspiration, or if the writer's best friend suggested the phrase after reading the first draft. The picture of a writer on a book jacket doesn't give me much of a clue about the writer's struggles and joys. The page is half filled.