Sometimes it’s not about the words, it’s about the music, underlying the words. About the melody flowing through the prose, from beginning to end.
Nature provides an underlying melody, a frequency at which all animate and inanimate creations vibrate. Simultaneously exclusive to the individual creation, and inclusive harmonically with all other creations in nature.
Writers typically call the underlying melody the theme. I have a solid background in music, both as a performer and as an audiologist, and I lean heavily toward the idea of a melody as a fundamental element of story telling.
Continuing with the musical analogy, the notes, passages and movements of a composition are the equivalent of words, paragraphs and chapters in a story. Each word, each paragraph, each chapter, must find its own harmony with the underlying theme, the melody.
When a writer stops listening to, or “hearing” the melody, the theme, that is the point at which the story begins to disintegrate, becomes dissonant, unable to harmonize with what has come before. Also known as writer’s block, the breakdown of harmony effectively disconnects an author from Source.
Many writers are unable to “see” beyond this type of juncture, to find the words to carry them through. Sometimes it’s not about the words, though. It’s about clearing everything out of the mind, about finding relaxation and meditation and prayer.
Restoring the harmony first, the writing will come, and the melody will continue as before, building on itself and lending to the harmony the author weaves into the story. Hearing the theme, but not seeing it.
Sometimes it’s not about the words, it’s about the music.