Wednesday, April 11, 2012

Hinges, pivot points, and other metaphors for choice

There are moments in writing when you set down a sentence and suddenly two different stories tell themselves in front of you.

The problem is, of course, that you cannot tell both of those stories. (Well, not unless you're writing a Choose Your Own Adventure, and I already did that.)

It seems like such a little thing to hang a story on, especially a long story (this sentence is in a novel, which is a very long sort of story). One sentence. But lives are changed by single sentences all the time.

And in this instance, better to take the pen, and draw the line through what was written there. Better indeed.


  1. ... and save it for a rainy day.

  2. "I shall be telling this with a sigh
    Somewhere ages and ages hence:
    Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
    I took the one less traveled by,
    And that has made all the difference."

    Robert Frost, "The road not taken"