Undoubtedly she did, later. At the time though, she had the wisdom to keep her ego out of it, not let her mind try to force its preferences. Clearly, she was hoping the experience would make it possible for her to love Sam again. But she knew she needed to wait, let her soul show her the path.
This was my experience when I started to write. The urge came pretty much out of nowhere, which is a common sign for me that it was coming from a much deeper level than my surface consciousness. And I could feel that it was a fragile process, one that had not completely taken hold in me. So I told no one, not even my husband, about it for months. By then I had the drafts of two novels and was well into the third – too late for me to pretend to myself that I wasn’t really a writer.
I’m very glad now that I kept it to myself for so long. Because I know that had I spoken of my writing too soon, all the energy pouring out of me into the words on the page would have become so much fodder for my mind, turned into thoughts of what the future would be. Book tours, interviews, podcasts – if the books sold well. Disappointment and confusion if they didn’t. My new “identity” on the line. Speaking out loud would have brought the outside world into the process, and distorted it, maybe even killed it. I had to see first where it would lead, where the energy coming through me wanted to go.
Every butterfly knows – the chrysalis stage is crucial.