It’s a good thing you’re thinking of the seam as a join, not a patch. The past should feel like a shadow that moves with the present, not a separate room. Start with a strong present anchor—a character or moment that readers can latch onto—then let the past seep in through choices, memories, or objects that carry weight. Don’t just throw in flashbacks; let them answer a question the current scene poses. If the old and new feel like they’re speaking in different languages, the story will wobble. Keep the voice consistent; the past can be colored by nostalgia, but the present must stay crisp. Remember, blending is a negotiation: the old gives texture, the new gives purpose. If one side dominates, the other is just decoration. Find the point where the grain of oak meets the fresh bark, and that’s where your narrative will feel solid.

Good to hear. Just remember, even a well‑cut board can splinter if the grain’s not straight. Keep your characters honest, and let the past whisper, not shout. Happy carving.

If the grain keeps shifting, a fresh cut is only good if you know why you’re cutting it. Make each slice count, not just to trim. Thank you—now go carve and keep your hands steady.