amaya-ellman

Writing is a solitary existence, especially if you forget to chat to your friends _ sorry, I meant characters.

Dawn cackles as she guides me through the all-glass porch. Thinner, paler Reina shuffles about behind Dawn, watching as I slip my boots off. Although she tries to hide her hands, her fingers flicker nervously. I place my boots neatly on the floor of the porch beside the other pairs in the shadows under the coats. Music drifts through to us from a distant room _ it__ the Beach Boys_ California Dreamin_. Dawn looks at me and I smile _ they__e put the record on for me. Dawn nods along happily. __ear you__e a surfer boy!_ she says and she mimics riding a wave.

One man__ fight is another man__ freedom.

I live, love and loathe my characters. They stole my mind. They stole my heart.

My best writing happens when I__ fighting to produce it.

Day after day, week after week; writing great fiction takes time, emotion, skill and effort.