Not sure if this is something that happens to others, but occasionally a word latches on to a particular feeling and I use that as the springboard for a metaphor when I set out to write, (other times I know what I want to write about and I go through a brain catalog of images or ideas that might work for it).
In this case, the word "eclipse" was in my head as a metaphor before it got latched onto anything significant. Something was there but I couldn't really define it.
So I played around with the word and some images and surprisingly (or I guess not so surprisingly), I found the themes too dark. I couldn't see where I was going. But I also really couldn't get the idea out of my head that someone blocking your light would start to take on different shapes in silhouette - at first it read a bit like a geometry lesson in English class (that bad). It wouldn't let go, though, so enters the archipelago. An actual visual when I was lacking light in the poem. It took off from there.
After a few drafts, I let the eclipse definition (surpassing and making others irrelevant) play a bit, but the archipelago really took over the foreground.
So my character, here, is awed by what she sees, wants to figure it out, is seeing different shapes than she would in full light, but she still longs for her own light. And that, I could handle.
Normally a word doesn't nag me like this one did to ultimately only become something of a background characteristic.
I guess that is the odd evolution of Uncharted. Even after it was done I wasn't sure if I liked it. It's so different compared to my other writing. It's certainly more intimate than a lot of stuff I've written recently. Sometimes playing in those quieter places is more intimidating than playing in the louder ones.
