Island Life, Word Birds & Process #7
It’s always about the process. I fear I may be in danger of overusing the word but the fact remains, it is. Any writer will tell you this. We put one foot in front of the other and follow the breadcrumbs.
Since my last post I’ve recovered my sense of proportion and more importantly, worked out whose story it is I’m writing. (Thank you, Terri-Lynne DeFino for pointing out that the person whose voice begins the story is usually the one who owns it.)
My ‘Sister’ book is another ghost story, albeit a much darker one than Ghostbird. (This ghost is angrier. She has an agenda and she deals in truth.) As do I, and once again find I’m writing about the nature of loss and redemption. These themes intrigue me, not least because they continue to shape me as a person. The various ways that women in particular deal with loss – and recover from it and find their voices – have long informed my writing.
In my prose passages I continue to weave spells. (My editor will almost certainly home in on an excess of ‘lovely’ and point me in the direction of my ‘Dead Darlings’ file. It’s why I need her.) My word spells may run away with themselves and occasionally need culling; they are still my preferred vehicle to tell my stories.
But regardless of whether or not she believes in magic per se, what I write has to feel accessible to my reader. I do my best. The magic I conjure is the kind that exists in the hesitation of twilight or a quiet dawn made soft by a lingering mist.
It hints at possibility.