Sunday’s sermon talked about
God as the potter and we, His creations, as the clay. We can’t tell Him what to
do, although we try anyway.
Fiction works like that,
too. I create the characters, and I get to tell them what to do. But sometimes
they have a mind of their own. When that happens, it’s my job to decide whether
to let them follow it.
And sometimes I do.
God also lets us follow
our own way sometimes. But no matter why He does so, one thing is clear: God knows
us better than we know ourselves.
And that’s where the
analogy breaks down.
Two weeks ago I mentioned
that the fatal flaw I had tried to give my protagonist wasn’t working. In a sense,
she was telling me that I didn’t understand her, that even though she liked being
with her friends, she loved her family more. So I will try to listen more
carefully when I write the second draft.
Because sometimes the
characters know themselves better than I do.
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