Why do I write what I do?

People always ask me that question. As if there’s some kind of magic or some great secret they’re not in on.

And the more I think about it, perhaps there is a bit of magic involved. Writing is never something I thought much about – because it seemed to come naturally to me. It’s not just something I have to do, it’s a passion. I don’t necessarily have a say about what or when it is going to come to the surface.

I love to write. I’m good at it. I jokingly say that writing is the only thing I’m good at. And if you had the chance to rummage around the drawers of my apartment, you would certainly find bits and pieces of things I’ve written knocking about, waiting for the moment when I find the way to keep moving the story forward

I’m an observer. I’m certainly not the life of the party, but I am the kind of person who notices things, who has images and thought stick with them until they find a way to come to the surface. I focus on little things. Bits and pieces of a story. Moments in time.

For me, that’s what drive me to write when it comes to my own stuff. What’s the rest of the story? What do the characters that come into my head have to say?

Which, is really what pushed me to write Not Alone on the Voyage. I was watching something on television (I think it was a funeral) and the thought came to me: What happens next? Where does the widow go now? How do they move on? I wrote a small piece, then promptly put it away.

I carried that piece of writing with my everywhere for more than 18 months, knowing that sooner or later I would figure out what came next. Suddenly, the characters in my head – particularly the main character – had something that needed to be said, and she wouldn’t leave me alone until she had been given a chance to speak. To share her journey with more people.

And she wouldn’t stop talking to me until I was done with this part of the story. So for now, Sandy’s story has been told.

But it’s not as simple as that. I wrote; I let things slide; I wrote some more; and then I put it away. I wasn’t sure I wasn’t ready to share the story with the world for some reason. Then, I finally realized the characters weren’t going to leave me alone until I did release the story. And by that time, the path to publishing was a little bit easier to travel for an unknown on the literary scene.

Friends have asked me what happens now, what’s the next part of her story, and I honestly don’t have an answer. Some have asked me to write the next phase of her story, but that’s up not up to me. I’m only the writer, the vessel for the characters. And that’s the beauty of the journey – you never really know where it will take you.

But if she (or any other character kicking around my head) has something they need said, it will only be a matter of time before inspiration strikes once again.

It’s been said that everyone has a novel within in them waiting to be written. I’m secretly hoping in my case, there might just be two.
I can’t wait for the next story to come out…