Spring is here and the garden is calling me, but my head is stuck in nineteenth century France. My characters have hooked me with the rhythm of their lives and I’m singing along to their tune.
I began with a well constructed plot with a beginning, a mid-section and a cliff hanger ending that leads to the next book in the series, but as usual my imaginary friends have taken the lead and are driving the story in different directions. I’m not complaining, as they are making a better job of it between them than I ever could have done without their help.
The sun might shine tomorrow and tempt me back to my own world for a while, but for now, I’m happy in the land of make believe, where anything can happen, and surprises are around every corner of the unwritten page.