I am about to plunge into writing my next novel – The Girl Who Could Not Love. I’ve always compared the feeling of starting a new story to the feeling of standing at the edge of a cliff and peering out to see what is below and beyond. One approaches the edge carefully, respectful of the abyss below, and at the same time with apprehensive wonderment, excitement, and a certain kind of childish joy. The deeper and farther I look out, the more I see, and images start emerging and becoming clear. Suddenly, that edge is not as defined and scary as it was at the beginning. A couple of chapters inside the story the edge has disappeared and I am floating, observing and being a part of the story. It is always like a little adventure.
The writing of this novel is an exciting undertaking because I have nothing to start with, no plot, no outline, no initial lines or ideas, only a title and the main character’s name. I am halfway the first chapter and I have to say that I was not expecting it to develop the way it is, so I am in for the ride. Hopefully, it will be completed by next year, but I am only the writer.