My sweet and I spent this weekend doing lots of errands and little craft projects for our upcoming nuptials, so our apartment eventually felt a bit overrun with rubber cement and empty shopping bags. On the surface this was quite a mess, but when I took a step back and surveyed the staging areas for our arts-and-craft hours some of our messes actually looked quite pretty. Take these hearts for instance: although my nostrils were filled with polyurethane fumes, and my fingers were smudged in red paint and aching from the prospect of scrubbing down the counters, these wooden beauts and their mess ended up yielding a cool photo opp. This made me think about how sometimes the best parts of my writing also happen accidentally. For example, sometimes I write filler scenes that I tell myself are purely temporary and yet I end up solving huge story problems within their confines. Other times, I might be writing a simple journal entry and I realize I’ve stumbled upon a feature-length-movie premise or novel idea amidst my scribbles. Do you ever find this kind of accidental beauty within your own writing or other forms of work? I realize it’s hard to consider anything an accident when it results from countless hours of very intentional work, but aren’t artistic gems and fixes the best no matter whether you meant for them to happen or not?