The Yellow Wood

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth. . .

Robert Frost,  from “The Road Not Taken”

So, I was originally going to blog about how fortunate we are, as writers, to be able to dwell in the yellow wood of possibility.  How we don’t have to worry about never being able to come back to a turning point in our stories, how we are free to make choices for our characters without the fear that we’ll make a misstep.  About how different that is from our real lives.

It’s true, in a way, although I must admit that when my characters start traveling down roads I didn’t plan for them, I like to see where they go.  I like to see what they may discover.  And I find that their choices are usually the right choices.

I don’t have to bring them back to the yellow wood to try the other path.

Maybe that’s true of anything.  We may peer down one road as far as we can, but take the other, knowing we aren’t coming back again.  And maybe that’s all there is to it. 

I could bring my characters back to the yellow wood.  But I trust them to find their way.

Just as we must trust ourselves.

Happy writing, friends.