There has to be. There’s no other logical reason that these things happen. There I am, happily pecking away on a story, when one character suddenly says to another “I know about the rabbit.”
“Wait,” I say. “What rabbit? What do you know about the rabbit? What bloody rabbit, damnit?” My fingers, unconcerned with my stream of consciousness, keep fluttering over the keys, spilling out a description of a rabbit with “maggot eaten but somehow still sad eyes” and how it’s cast an unpleasant shadow across this individual’s life. I had to stop there and think for a bit, because this was getting a trifle uncomfortable. But I know about the rabbit, and how it ties to other aspects of this story that I hadn’t really considered yet, and the rabbit belongs in the story, most assuredly.
But it is still disturbing to me how these things will just slip in, whispering in my ear that they need to be there, without me even thinking about it before that. They sneak in and take over the story, altering my opinions and perceptions of what the story was about, and it can be quite frustrating.
But then again, would it be any fun if I already knew everything about the tale before I started typing? I doubt it.
Back to work. I have to unearth the rabbit.