In certain professions, there comes a point where one must learn to trust the subtle, elusive processes that quietly operate in the depths of the mind.
Fiction writing is undoubtedly one of those fields.
While many might describe this intangible force as the Muse or a flash of inspiration, I prefer to think of it as a quiet, ever-present whisper—a voice that is always one step ahead of my conscious thoughts.
Trusting the Whisper Within
The mysterious part of my mind that fuels my storytelling doesn’t make grand proclamations or demand attention.
Instead, it communicates in whispers, subtle and understated, like the faintest rustling of leaves in a breeze or the softest ripple on a pond’s surface.
This inner voice doesn’t shout its ideas from the rooftops; rather, it offers its insights in the form of quiet, almost imperceptible suggestions.
These messages are often as delicate as the vibrations on a spider’s web, signaling that something important has been caught, yet requiring careful attention to discern.
The true challenge, and indeed the art, lies in tuning into these gentle nudges.
It’s about cultivating the patience and mindfulness to listen to the whispers that so easily get drowned out by the noise of daily life.
These whispers might come in the form of a fleeting thought, a sudden image, or a vague feeling that something is missing from a scene—something you can’t quite put your finger on, but know is there, waiting to be discovered.
As a writer, it’s essential to trust this inner voice, even when it doesn’t provide all the answers at once.
It’s in these quiet moments of reflection, when you allow yourself to listen to the whispers within, that the magic of storytelling often begins to unfold.
Over time, you come to realise that this whisper isn’t just a fleeting presence but a reliable guide, leading you through the twists and turns of your creative journey.
It’s this whisper that helps you find the right words, the perfect plot twist, or the emotional depth that brings your characters to life.
So much of writing is about trust—trusting that the story will reveal itself, trusting that the characters will come into their own, and trusting that the whisper within will continue to guide you.
It’s a trust that builds with experience, growing stronger each time you allow that quiet voice to lead the way, and find that it brings you exactly where you need to go.
In the end, fiction writing isn’t just about putting words on a page; it’s about listening to the stories that already exist within you, just waiting to be heard.
And sometimes, all it takes is a little faith in the whisper that is always one step ahead, gently nudging you toward the next great idea.
When Your Inner Voice Knows Better
Time and again, this internal guide has proven itself to be more insightful than I could ever anticipate, revealing dimensions of my work that initially eluded me.
It’s as if a part of my mind sees the whole picture long before I do, quietly nudging me toward the elements I’ve overlooked.
One vivid example of this occurred with my book Dawn of Assassins.
I was confident it was complete, ready for the world to see.
The manuscript had been polished, the plot tightly woven, and the characters fully realised—or so I thought.
However, as I began writing the sequel, an inexplicable pull drew me back to the original narrative.
It was a subtle feeling at first, a quiet voice in the back of my mind insisting that something wasn’t quite finished.
For a while, I ignored it, eager to move forward with the new story.
But the whisper persisted, growing louder until it was impossible to dismiss.
Eventually, I relented and revisited Dawn of Assassins with fresh eyes.
It was only then that the missing piece became glaringly obvious.
A character arc that needed further development, a subplot that required more depth, or a moment of emotional resonance that hadn’t fully landed—whatever it was, it stood out to me like a beacon.
And because I had learned to trust that inner voice, I knew exactly what needed to be done.
It’s Worth Every Rethought Sentence
The journey of introspection, of revisiting and refining what I once believed to be complete, demands time and effort.
It can be frustrating to go back to something you thought you had finished, to rework sentences that you had already laboured over.
But I’ve come to realise that this process is not just necessary—it’s invaluable.
Listening to that inner voice, even when it leads me back to the drawing board, ensures that the story I’m telling is the best it can be.
It’s about respecting the craft, understanding that sometimes the first draft, or even the third, isn’t where the story truly finds its voice.
The extra investment in rethinking and revising has always paid off.
In the case of Dawn of Assassins, the changes I made after heeding that internal guide enriched the narrative, deepened the characters, and ultimately made the story more compelling.
It’s the difference between a good book and a great one, between a story that satisfies and one that resonates on a deeper level with readers.
Trusting the Process
In the end, every rethought sentence, every revisited chapter, is worth it.
This is why I listen.
Because I’ve learned that my inner voice, that quiet yet persistent whisper, often knows better.
It sees what I cannot, understands the layers of the narrative in ways that aren’t immediately clear to me.
And by trusting it, I’m not just finishing a book—I’m crafting a story that I can be truly proud of.
So, the next time that inner voice calls you back to something you thought you were done with, consider listening.
It might just be the key to unlocking the full potential of your work.
After all, the best stories are often those that have been rethought, refined, and revisited until they are truly ready to be shared with the world.
CherryEdits 