And somehow it all came together...

The strangest hair cut of my life proved to be an amazing metaphor for how I write.

After recently moving to a new town, I went in search of a new hairstylist. I combed reviews, sought recommendations, and settled on a salon in a strip shopping center not far from my home.

I walked into a packed house. Good sign, I thought. I was called back to the chair of an elderly woman who asked me in broken English what I wanted. "Neaten it up. Just a trim," I said firmly.

"I understand." She picked up a pair of scissors, grabbed a lock of hair, and hacked off two inches. (I have short hair--so that's a lot.)

"Um, wow, what are you doing?"

"It's okay." She smiled and continued hacking with exuberance.

Within seconds, I had huge chunks of hair missing on three sides of my head. Still, I sat there silently, watching in fascinated horror as my hair rained down on the floor, hoping she would be able to pull off a miracle--because stopping where it was would be far worse.

She used four types of scissors. Three types of electric razors and eight different attachments. My hair looked like a complete disaster, and I was already wondering if I'd have enough for someone else to salvage.

Then she nodded with satisfaction, calmly flicked a brush through what was left on my head... and somehow it all came together. The spiky strands spiked no more. The bangs feathered smoothly. The sides and back held its shape perfectly. It was the most adorable hair cut I've ever had.

She grinned. "I give you something new. Not what you ask for."

That's how I write. I hate first drafts. It feels like I hack away at the story, wanting it to go somewhere, having a vision but not sure if I'm headed in the right direction.

Then I reach revisions. I stare at the mess before me and dive tentatively in. I analyze, rewrite, prune, shift around, and argue with characters who don't turn out the way I expected. Slowly, the real story--the story that was meant to be--emerges. And somehow, it all comes together. Different than what I envisioned. Better.

My new stylist has given me a gift (in addition to the cute cut). She's taught me to be bold and confident. To trust the mess. To believe in myself that the outcome will be amazing.