There is a spiritual quality to writing, especially when you let go and just let the stories write themselves.
When I was writing the earlier parts of A Myth in Action, my real-life hero was fighting his way through Sicily, mainland Italy, and France during WWII. He came home with PTSD, and there were moments while I was writing his story that I almost felt as though I were developing the disorder myself.
While I was outlining my fictional book, Redstone's Valley, I knew that some of the characters were going to have to die. There wasn't much I could do about it - they were swept up in my telling of this tale of 19th century Texas, and death was an inevitable part of their lives, through one means or another.
The first of those characters to go was a young woman - one I had come to care a lot about, and I stopped writing for a while because I could not bring myself to do it. When I got over it, I still chose to have it happen outside the text, and instead focused the tension on having her closest friends hear about it.
As the book went on, when someone had to die, I found that I was unable to dwell on it, and recounted what happened quickly and dispassionately. In the long run, I think it helped the story. In each case, death came quickly and succinctly, and - I hope - as a shock to the reader, and the survivors picked themselves up and got on with the business of living.
It was, after all, the 19th century, not far from the frontier.
But where my writing gets away from me most completely is during scenes of dialog, when the characters start talking to each other. I am the only one writing, but the two (or sometimes three) characters begin talking to each other and I am always surprised at what they each say - and they always stay in character. I can hear their voices and tones inside my head (yeah, freaky.).
I yhink all of our stories come from a collective unconscious, and we only relate our personal perspective of what is already there.
Just me, though