I am often asked what it is that propels the plots and characters from my mind to their place on the page. Truth is – I don’t know. I wonder too about this need to create. To make something where once was nothing. So inherently driven by nature is this need that I am convinced I’m merely a passenger. Unwilling at times. Charmed and seduced during better times. Creation is to the writer what breath is to the breather. Involuntary. Rhythmic. I yield to its lead – more a conduit than a conductor. This book was conceived as are most of my ideas – in water. Through water. Seeds of thought sprinkled and nourished until they grow into people and places and problems and solutions.
As was the case with The Making of Nebraska Brown; I met Ann Leigh and Tommy while I was showering. The boundary between the author and her players is typically uncomfortably comfortable. The process was slow-going. Much like Ann Leigh herself, the details of her life were presented to me as the days went along, in random and unpredictable spurts. It was up to me to catch what I could, sort out the circumstances, and give a voice to the likes of Shane Kirkland and Renata Moreau. I enjoyed getting to know them all, with their humor and sweet imperfections.
Creating is romance fraught with your customary relationship woes. The writer and his story. Coming together by chance or fate. We bicker, laugh, cry, and love. But more often than not, creation isn’t so much chosen as it is supplied through the forces of the universe larger than our own will.
I am that which I confess to on my website. The girl holding the pen. The creating is of its own accord. I’m helpless to contain it. Though for that futility I am ever-grateful.
