I have spent an inordinate amount of my lifetime trying to write my way into stories the same way that I read them: in a straight line. Only just now does it occur to me to try getting into a story the way one gets into a secret room newly discovered hidden in one’s house: punch holes in the weakest parts of the wall until you find the beams.
Ubiquitous. Quotidian.
Evolution of a curious mind.
Ubiquitous. Quotidian. 
I too have only written in a straight line. Feels unnatural to do it any other way. But lately I’ve tried jumping to and fro, like a time traveller, and that works too.
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Oh. I like the image of jumping to and fro like a time traveler. That’s a better image for me than the construction metaphor. Probably because I am more likely to be a time traveler than I am to ever build anything. 🙂
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