The stage of renewal in a story offers a second opportunity for rebirth. Unlike the crisis, the scenes of renewal focus on the inner life of the major character.
Through the action of deciding and choosing to share the good news of her or his triumph in both word and deed, the protagonist now heads down a road, the path and events of which are shaped and influenced more by internal changes than those physically committed.
The physical actions committed during the stages of crisis and climax set the protagonist on a path of undergoing deep internal change–renewal.
Renewal signals the time in a story or novel where the central character surrenders to the nuclear fall out, so to speak, of her or his actions.
He or she has carried out the physical task set forth by the changes and upheaval leveled at the outset of the story.
At the peak of action she or he dueled her their enemies and/or central antagonist.
In the wake of triumph she/he has made decisions reflective of their survival and the wisdom granted by having battled through the crisis.
The task she or he faces rests with sinking into the garden of transformation that now abounds, embracing the flowers that blossom, reconciling one’s previous identity with who she or he has become.
With each novel we write, a newer, more authentic and vulnerable version of ourselves as person and writer emerges.
Moving through the various drafts of edits and revisions peels away the onionskin of our defenses.
Reaching the end of these drafts delivers us at the most potent and pungent fact of the person that we are.
We are more sensitive to the shifts in emotions of those around us.
We see clearer and deeper if we have written the story laid before us.
Like the protagonist of our stories, the words we write at the outset of a novel or story set us upon a path whose peak of action, resolution and denouement propel us towards an end that in essence is a new beginning.
Who am I today in having written these words?
What did I accomplish when completing this draft of my novel, and in so doing, what hidden part of me has come forth?
What is it now present in this moment, but laid hidden and out of the perception of awareness, when I began writing this blog post?
The writing could contain 500 words or 50,00. Each word we pen or type lays forth a step that our hearts and minds trod.
Ideally, the mind, that at the outset guided our hands in choosing the first words will, by the end of the work, have taken a back seat to the heart.
Like the central character who in renewal surrenders to the work she or his has accomplished from the beginning of a story to the arc or crisis, and then climax, so too the ego of the writer must go under and render itself subject to the transforming waters of the unconscious as we write.
This is what we call entering or writing from the zone, that place where our mind grows silent and our hands and fingers write and type only the words of our heart.
How long does it take you when writing to get into the zone?
What is it like writing from the zone?
How would you describe this place of writing from or in the zone?
What helps you to enter the zone when writing?
How willing are you to become vulnerable in your writing?
Great post, very insightful.
I dont get to write from the zone very often, but when I do, its a really good thing (to paraphrase Marth Stewart-lol)
The fact that we don’t always get to write from “the zone ” makes it all the more wonderful, exciting, and transformative when we do.
Like everything we benefit most when entering it with gratitude and offering praise when finding ourselves in it.
Thanks so much for taking the time to comment.
Keep the faith, and do keep writing.
Thanks Anjuelle, and that you’re right. That’s a good way to look at it. I have noticed that I am much more appreciative (and productive) when I am able to find the elusive Zone.
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