I got this story second hand. At a recent event, a well-known author recalled an anecdote involving his mentor. This teacher was discussing planning and outlining a story before writing. When the, then, undergrad said that he believed stories emerge organically while one was writing, rather than mapping it out, the mentor said, "oh, you must be a Jungian."
The more I think about that observation, the more I believe that, to some extent, I am a Jungian, too. Writing is like an excavation to discover these archetypes buried deep within us that the conscious mind tends to ignore. Every story begins with a spark, whether it is a photograph or piece of music, but it is the process of picking at it constantly that leads to a cohesive piece of work. I find it incredibly interesting when a story I'm writing goes in a direction I wasn't expecting - I mean, how in the hell do you explain that? There is a collective unconsciouness, or objective psyche, at work within the artist (if I may be so bold as to call myself an artist) - almost to the point of possessing the writer. I've gotten lost in a manuscript where it seems that I'm more of a medium than the originator of the message - and it's wonderful.