June the month of fire flowers, of heady blooms and a sky that looks like the sea. A month to fall in love with folktales again, the darkwoods and the hidden paths. June with its summer fogs, sunlit picnics and childhood escapes, its antlered dawns and horned dusks.
A month for new islands, medieval chapels whose clean white stone houses dragons and caves that have crumbled into the devil’s hands. The sound of gulls, eerie and shrill. June – a month of revising the first ten scenes and finding grains of magic. A month of getting under the skin and hair and nails of characters who now have accents and arguments without me having to do very much.
Amid all the noise and distraction, the onslaught of inspiration and daily clicks, the likes and the numbers, amid lost chapters, plot holes and lying awake over stimulated but hellishly empty, June was the month I found peace. A summer that begins and continues with words, words and nothing but, and that will hopefully end with a story I am able to tell out loud.
Forgive me, I'm daydreaming again…