Or at least that’s how I like to approach it.
Respect is key. The story is its own, is shaped by its own boundaries, marred by its own shortcomings and enhanced by its own sweet surprises.
An author simply asks to join it on a stroll in the twilight-tinted garden.
Eventually wordsmith or tale might indeed ask for dalliance to turn affair, but just as likely either may not, simply choosing to bid adieu when the moon makes its first shy appearance.
So many stories, so many characters, so many settings have wandered my way over the years; so many strolls have been taken; so many adieus have been bid… It all could be seen as rather sad. But instead of mourning projects that for some reason or other simply didn’t work out, I try to record each brief dalliance down in my memory in hopes of returning to it one twilight-tinted evening… on an unexpected dusk between The Hushing Days.
Post-note: In other words, I am still looking for a project to fill my imagination’s time before I can return to the final editing of my 18th novel, The Hushing Days. As you can see by this self-indulgent post, my imagination is in desperate need of a flirtation. So sorry.