Silence is rare, there is always sound be it the extrinsic tinkle of life or the internal ticking of your mind. I set out to write about Will and John, but I could not continue with their story. There was a nagging voice insisting that I complete the final part of the arc to which they belong, Sheenah had to have her day, then the Talisman niggled me. When the arc is revealed all will come clear, it is already clear to me but in a nebulous way. As in life, today hangs on what happened yesterday. Each story hands something on to the one that must follow, but as each transition occur it is transformed like a Chinese whisper .
I have the leisure to let the cascading voices of the stories from the arc, jostling one another to be told, decide which will be uncovered next. It is a strange process. I start to write, research the detail, then write something completely different. I don’t mind this because eventually I return to the researched story and it is richer for having the added mass of the usurper in place. I do like the unexpectedness of the outcome. Slowly my characters are becoming my people, they decide how it will work and then I decide if I am ready to write about them yet. When the muse hits it is one of the nicest experiences I have, absorbing, fulfilling and spontaneous.