Whenever I'm working on a novel, there are these moments in life where I find myself transported into the events taking place. Yesterday I caught this flock heading south in formation, flying under the approach of winter that lingered in the overcast. I heard them coming long before I saw them and watched as they passed above by me. It was exactly the kind of thing I could imagine happening to my two main characters.
In moments like this, I find myself drifting deeper into the story. The world of my fiction and the world outside grow to look alike and my life gets intertwined with the characters. Everything merges. Life blends with imagination and imagination influences reality. Alas, that is the life a writer chooses to live.