I was reading a pep talk from NaNoWriMo when it happened. A thought, small and daring, exploded in my brain. I gasped. It wasn’t even a nice, quiet gasp–I literally sucked in my breath as loudly as I could, squashing my face into my hands with utter shock. I was almost moaning, trying to breathe and wondering if I should laugh or cry.

I knew it. I knew who that mysterious person was in my story…the character’s father.

No. It couldn’t be. I couldn’t make family connections. It would be too difficult, too daring, too…awesome.

But isn’t that what they all do? I ask myself. Throw in a family member where you’d least expect it, just to shock the readers?

No, I can’t do that.

But the idea was already in me, and it was already forming into a beautiful creature. It was too late to change what I had created, and now it would either break me or shape me into the best writer in the world. (Or somewhere in between.)

Please tell me I’m not alone.

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