When I reread my musings on the creative process, I stumble on old insights.
Among these was the opportunity to revisit the first novel I ever wrote.
It all started in my aunt’s and uncle’s house at 2am. How all stories start. An insight into a place my imagination took me.
You know the feeling. But if you become aware of what just happened. If you grasp at it, it could be gone. You might lose it. Whatever that was.
This novel grew and grew and in my 20s I finished it. It grew yet further still into a larger story which I submitted to agents in March 2018.
But I want to come back to the original tale.
And tell it.
Where my novels are now:
- SOUND OF STONE, with Agents
- ENDURING COMPOSITIONS, with Agents
- FORBIDDEN PHRASES, with Agents
- EOLIAN DUNES, 2nd draft
- RESCUE WITCH PRINCESS?, outline
I don’t know what results will come of any of these artistic efforts, exploration, imagination.
But it feels right.
There is so much to learn. Craft. Narrative. Character. Prose.
That’s what I’m up to now.