Leaps of Magic
The way I write, and perhaps think, is something like this: I get an idea, a phrase, a rough shape of something that I think is decently profound and then, I try to make my way to that thought. As an experience, it is almost like someone showing me a glimpse of a treasure somewhere - the path to which I do not clearly know.
Everything I do afterwards is towards finding my way to that treasure; so that I know for sure the treasure exists and to guide others, who aspire similarly to find it. But often, I do not find the path. I get lost, I get blocked, or I forget. In such times of desperation, I wish to end up at the treasure even at the cost of the path which I was trying to create.
Then, almost by some force of magic, I jump great distances - distances that I would normally have to traverse with careful reasoning - to arrive at my thought. This may seem fine for me (although it is not); it is fatal for the ones who come after me.
They may follow my path, believing that they will find the same treasure but they will surely dismay when they realize that they lack the magic with which I leaped.
They will surely lose their faith in me and in every treasure I later claim to have seen.