Entry 01 | I don't know the ending; the story creates itself.

(TAP PLAY TO LISTEN)

Most people believe that writers are the architects of the stories they create—meticulously planning every detail, every twist and turn. But in reality, writing is less about controlling a narrative and more about surrendering to it. The more I write, the more I realize that my stories are not my own. The stories have a way of revealing themselves, and therefore, I cannot rightfully call myself their creator. I see myself more as a vessel through which the stories flow.

It’s a humbling and thoroughly entertaining experience to not know where the story is headed. I can sit at my desk, the cursor blinking on the screen, thinking I have a clear path ahead. And then, suddenly, a character does something I didn’t expect—something that surprises even me. A plot twist emerges that completely reshapes the story I thought I was telling. In those moments, I am reminded of something Rick Rubin wrote in The Creative Act: A Way of Being:

“The process of creation is mysterious. In many ways, the creator is a vessel, not a maker. We are conduits for ideas that want to come through us.”

These words echo the truth I often face when writing: I am not the master of the story. It’s not about my control, but about letting the narrative take shape on its own terms. When I relinquish that sense of ownership, when I stop trying to predict every plot development, I open myself to the true beauty of creation that unfolds. I’ve come to understand that a story has its own life, and my job is simply to follow its lead.

Stephen King, in On Writing, speaks to this same idea. He writes:

“The task of the writer is to make the reader see and feel and believe. It’s a matter of discovery. It’s always a matter of discovery. The writer may have a theme, but the writer does not know what the book is about until the book is written.”

That sense of discovery is where the true beauty lies. I’ve often been surprised by where my writing takes me, and there’s a thrill in that uncertainty. The first draft is always messy—wild, untamed, a labyrinth of half-formed ideas. But it’s in that chaos that the story finds its way.

Thankfully, I have always had this approach to writing. I learned how to write in grade school; the theme was given to me by my teacher, paper and a pencil, then I would put pencil to paper, and I wouldn't stop until the story was done. Now that I am older, I have learned different writing techniques that require outlines and more organization than I am used to. Although these techniques have proved to be beneficial in their own right, I can't forget to trust the process of writing, trusting that the story itself will guide me somewhere worth going. As Julia Cameron writes in The Artist's Way:

“We are all artists, and artists don’t know what they are doing. They do it anyway. They learn by doing. This is the great secret: We are taught how to go into the unknown and to keep our trust there.”

Trusting in the unknown is one of the most powerful lessons I’ve learned as a writer. It’s both frightening and freeing. There’s a vulnerability in not knowing how things will turn out, in not having all the answers right away. But in that space of uncertainty, the most incredible things happen. Characters come to life in ways I never imagined. The plot shifts and twists in surprising directions. And at the end of it all, I look back and think, I never could have planned that.

Perhaps the most profound realization I’ve come to is this: as a writer, I am just a guide, I don't know the ending because the story really does create itself. I don’t dictate the plot; I simply reveal it, bit by bit, as I go along. And sometimes, the most beautiful and unexpected revelations are the ones I never saw coming.

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Discussion: When was the last time you embraced the uncertainty in your own life or creative process and let the story unfold on its own terms? How did it surprise you?

Let me know in the comments below.