So I just hit the one-third mark in the manuscript on this oh so exciting voyage through second draft. Slog, slog, slog. O motivation, where art thou?

And then out of nowhere, I found Hidden Meaning in something one of my secondary protagonists says. When I wrote it, I just meant for him to be talking about the main protagonist’s situation. But lo, upon this rereading, I have realized he’s talking about himself and his own situation as well. What’s even better is that the protagonist replies to him about her own situation — she has no idea about his health issue at this point — and could very well be describing his own denial anyway.

“Stop trying to tell me I’m right to be so upset.”

“You have every right.” He stood his cello case in the corner of the entry hall and pulled off his jacket. “But it sounds to me like you’re already telling yourself it’s okay to lose.”

“Well, yeah. That’s the point.”

“But it isn’t.” He turned at looked at her, hard. “She’s come out of nowhere and is trying to take something that belongs to you, for whatever reason. Don’t give up before you’ve even stood up to defend what’s yours.”

“Don’t you get it? I’m trying to trick myself.” Clare dropped her own jacket on the landing, grabbed the viola case, and walked away from him into the living room. “If I pretend I don’t care, I can play properly. If I admit that I do care, I can’t concentrate.”

I would like to take this as proof that I know what I’m doing, but if it happens without me planning it, I can’t call it genius; it’s more likely to be a lucky coincidence. I should credit my subconscious instead. Apparently it’s both craftier and smarter than I am.