This little beast has taken some interesting turns. What I started out thinking would be the reason for it all has become a smokescreen of a smokescreen and may yet be leading me down the garden path. You never know which direction the characters will want to go...or who will jump through the door to join the ensemble along the way...or who will decide to do something that throws everything else off.
I will say, 85% of the time when these things happen, it makes everything better. This is why I disagree with Susan Sontag's quote. I'm not seeking these moments, not specifically. But by keeping myself open to them, they carry me off.
I think most writers feel that way. Most artists. They trust the magic that comes their way to envelop them and carry them into new realms. Sometimes the magic is black. Sometimes it's white. Sometimes you can't even tell until all is said and done whether you've touched an angel or a devil.
I can't reject either one, because "If my devils are to leave me, I'm afraid my angels may take flight, as well." (Ranier Maria Rilke writing in "Duineser Elegien") And I like them both.