Like Killing Butterflies

I have a scene I’m so excited to write that I’m psyching myself out!
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It’s like how Ann Patchett described it: “This book I have not yet written one word of is a thing of indescribable beauty, unpredictable in its patterns, piercing in its color, so wild and loyal in its nature that my love for this book, and my faith in it as I track its lazy flight, is the single perfect joy in my life. […] When I can’t think of another stall, when putting it off has actually become more painful than doing it, I reach up and pluck the butterfly from the air. I take it from the region of my head and I press it down against my desk, and there, with my own hand, I kill it. It’s not that I want to kill it, but it’s the only way I can get something that is so three-dimensional onto the flat page. Just to make sure the job is done I stick it into place with a pin. Imagine running over a butterfly with an SUV.”
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Yet this is somehow better, friends, because, one, it EXISTS, and two, it is shareable. The perfect book or scene or idea,  only in the writer’s mind, is not superior.
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So. I will pin that scene to the page today. Then I will somehow make it shine.
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