She composes a symphony, not with the dots and lines of musical notes but with the dots and lines of letters. The plot is the melody, consistent throughout. Themes pop up at intervals like recurring motifs, reminding the reader of what is at stake.
The rise and fall of action is like the rise and fall in dynamics. Sometimes the moments are a subdued pianissimo. A gentle kiss from lovers, a quiet moment with family. Tranquility. Joy. Other times they are a crashing fortissimo. Excitement! Danger!
Each character is a different instrument, carrying the music in their own timbre. But despite their differences, they are able to coalesce into a harmonized phrase. Conflict and internal struggle appear as dissonance, throwing off the otherwise mellifluous tone.
The symphony is not hers to keep. When she is done, she shares it with those around her. Some will gravitate towards it. Others may not understand it or will not find it to their liking. Nevertheless, the symphony must be shared. What good is music if no one hears it?