...arranging pieces of puzzle. I start with a part. A character. Scene. A certain situation, where I "introduce" several personalities and, to my delight, watching them interact and grow. Then I put layers and layers of depth. Background. Setting. The main picture begins to unfold. Nice, very nice indeed.
Then I might stumble upon difficulties. The missing pieces. I try to force several pieces to fit, but deep in my heart I feel uneasy about it. They are here somewhere, only I have not had the patience to look for them! I hold the remaining pieces greedily, whacking my head for a flash of inspiration, begging my muse to show some mercy.
Let's say that I find the missing pieces--in jumbled state. If I'm really stuck, I talk it over with a friend--and in my case, who can be better than my partner? Voila! The pieces start to make sense. I can see the order. The beauty of the plot.
Still, it doesn't cover all. Some subtle parts are yet to be seen. So I let myself fall back to the routine, not really thinking about them. Knowing, sooner or later, they'd materialize in front of my very eyes.
And they always do.
They came to me as I was reading something. The gaps of the plot, they rushed to greet me. So I got out of bed, fixed myself a cup of teh tarik, and tried to put those ideas to writing, in case they decided to slip away.