Writers wonder these kinds of things–perhaps most often when they face a blank screen.
With my last project pretty well wrapped up it’s time for me to start a new book. I’ve had some ideas already. Took some notes. Worked out a potential storyline. Named some characters. I put all that away over the holidays and had other things to do. Now it’s time and procrastination begins.
How do I make the story live? Yesterday I spent all day renaming my protagonist’s little brother. I like the new name, and it stirred other thoughts. I began to envision scenes. Today I opened the window blinds and noticed the fog rising on the river, like dreams, like story. By afternoon a feeble sun broke through, and I grabbed a coat to head out for my walk.
So many ideas emerge on those walks. Fog still rising. Rolling down the river between the oak hills and timbered slopes. The story will come. I just have to let it in.
(Photos taken with my new iPhone on the family farm.)
As drought dries the landscape of my Oregon home, turning the green to gold, I dream of the green fields of Ireland.
One day soon I hope to revisit the magic of Ireland. Meanwhile my books take me there.
My upcoming book series features two island settings–Ireland and Crete. For some time I have started this ancient historical saga in Crete, but I’m bringing Ireland forward now with Whisper of Wings as the opening book, where they call the place by its old name Éire.
Irish clan leader Bria knew only peace before the slave traders came, but she must now learn the grief of bearing weapons of war to save her People of the Stones. The Éireanns play a role in most of the other stories.
I first visited Ireland because of my Irish roots. My DNA shows at least a trickle of Irish blood. I know my maternal grandparents were both part Irish. That was enough for me to adopt the place.
By the next trip I had learned more about the stone circles scattered over Ireland and had drafted Whisper of Wings. One more trip helped answer new questions that came up as the series grew. I see another Irish book in the future, beyond the series–or loosely tied to it. The island shall always hold a special place in my heart. The green and the friendliness of its people and the magic of its ancient monuments refresh my soul.
First daffodils of the season opened outside my house today. Their bright yellow color always shines a light of hope for me. Winter is passing. Better days ahead.
The flower reflects a spot of sunlight shining through the dark rain clouds on a late February morning. This year it occurs to me that this same golden yellow shines on the Ukrainian flag. Much of the world looks upon that country today with hope for their success in their battle for freedom. These brave people remind all of us how precious freedom is and how important that we sustain it not only in our own lives but for the rest of the world.