Writing has become an interesting adventure. Writing is solitude, talking to people who only exist in your mind and thinking hours, days and weeks describing one person. My family and friends wonder how I can sit in my cubby and write hours and hours. I’m not a loner for sure, but you see I’m not alone in my cubby.
I have my characters. Miranda, a young girl who has many tragedies in her life, who visits and tells me her tale as she holds onto her one pink rose that was giving to her by her one true love, a love that will never be. Cody, a young Native American boy, whose father dies and his perfect world spins to a stop, as his father’s secrets become known. Then, Belinda stops by my cubby, a young girl who goes on an adventure aboard the Aeolus, an old sailing ship, from hundreds of years ago. She tells her tale of falling in love. She holds her locket in her hand from the captain of the Aeolus wondering if her escapades on board the old sailing ship could be real or was it a dream?
My friends, my characters tell me their stories and I sit day after day listening, just as I would for any of my friends. Being a writer, I get to travel back in time or go to the future. I get to meet sailors, Captains of tall sailing ships, men who have built grand hotels, creatures that can talk, and even ghost. This is an amazing world and I have enjoyed my visits with my characters. Even though some days get rough with rewrites and I question why I’m working so many hours, but I close my eyes and I can be on the sailing ship Aeolus or sitting in the Grand Hotel in San Francisco, all from my small little cubby.