Having a new cat has made me hyper-aware of my apartment, especially the sounds and spaces I've taken for granted for the past two plus years of residence. Frenchie is like a little kid-everything is new to her, in this new enviroment! Insanely new! She was sitting on my dresser the other day, which seemed normal enough, but when I opened the top drawer she was fascinated by the space behind the drawer (a space which hadn't really existed until the drawer was opened) and sort of crouched down to get a better view of, ah, nothing.
That space, which is sort of an in-between space, reminded me that good writing doesn't just cover the expected terrain in a story, plodding from beginning to end, but retains the patience to veer off into narrative off shoots. Your plot doesn't need to fit a rigid mold, your characters don't need to have the expected emotional reactions, and you don't need to zoom past the good scenic views to check into the hotel on time. Part of the joy of fiction, especially novel length fiction, is the ramble through the fog (Dickens loved to walk for miles everyday with no particular destination in mind).
I've also been re-watching That 70's Show, starting with Season One Ep. One, and I've been amazed at how often the actors nearly break, or actually do break, or cause each other to break, yet the director leaves these scenes in, o so wisely, and they're usually the funniest scenes of each episode.