About a year ago, I was working on honing my ability to use setting effectively in my stories and I read an exercise about how to create moods with its place. I was struck on an idea of all the roads could lead you to a house but if a person who owned the house doesn't want you there you'd never be able to find it. The streets would shift and twist so you'd never reach the destination. And what if this house was old living among newer homes that the newer residence couldn't understand why they always got lost on seeming straight streets.
What would that magical house look like? Who would live there? Then I meet one of my main character for my newest novel, that is a work-in-progress. A year ago, I started to flesh out her, her world, and a short story sprouted.
But it was only the tip of the adventure so I continued to write and delve into the world. Now one year since I read that exercise, I've had the first draft of my manuscript done. It's shorter than the first novel manuscript I finished and since it's YA, I think that's fine. Yet I'm excited to rework it and flesh it out.
As I'm wrapping up with this round of writing, I have another character tugging on my ear. Yes, muse, I'm coming. My fingers can only go so fast across the keyboard.
Heading the Call,