The Storyteller arrives before dawn. The world is still dark, and the room empty, but full of anticipation. She lights a fire in the hearth, sets out the seating, dusts the tables and sweeps the floor. She ponders, briefly, painting the walls, but decides to leave them as they are. She puts the kettle on for tea.
The story goes, we writers are reclusive sorts. The stereotypes keep us in cold attics or studio apartments or remote cabins in obscure woods. There may be some truth to that: writing is a notoriously solitary art, and we all need that “room of one’s own,” as Virginia Woolf so famously put it. But now, our computers and laptops come with us up into the attic, and remote cabins are hooked up with wifi. And we do have a habit of making words if we’re given a page to put them on–even if the page is virtual. Continue reading “Navigating by Starlight”
Jennifer Hykes 