Wednesday, 2 May 2012

Day One

I guess this is my first official daily blog. I have been sitting here trying to think what I could write that would be of any interest to you.  I don’t know you…you don’t know me, so what on earth should I say?

The answer came while I was sitting on the toilet; sad but true, and the answer is this, why don’t I just write as I have always done?  So… I will be writing for my own enjoyment and if you find it even mildly interesting, I will be happy. On the other hand, if you think it is not worth the screen it’s displayed on, I’ll still be happy…why?  Because I am writing and I love it.  

All I ask of you is that you comment on my blog, be it good, bad or indifferent, I don’t  care,  I just don’t want to feel lonely out there in cyber space, it’s cold and it’s dark and no one can hear you scream!

I have been writing or telling stories in one form or another for as long as I can remember, squeezing in an hour or two in between work, rest and play, but never quite finishing anything and never quite getting anything just right…until now, and wow it is good!  Yes of course I am biased, but I have to be.  If I’m not confident with the quality of my work, how on earth can I expect a publisher to take it on, and no…I am not going to tell you all about it, not yet anyway.  I also realise that the only opinions that really count our those of my potential readers, they will be the ones who will tell me if it really is as good as I think...but I have to get it out to them first.

About ten months ago I was watching one of my girls, Alba, who was fast asleep on the sofa and who seemed to be having an incredible dream.  Lying stretched out on her side; her legs were running towards or away from something at an alarming pace.  Suddenly she stopped, froze then let out a big sigh.  Arr it’s over I thought.  But I was wrong.  Seconds later she was up and running again, this time sniffing the air trying to pick up a scent as she went, now I knew that she was the hunter, not the hunted. That’s my girl.

Anyway I began to wonder what she could be dreaming of.  Little human girls dream of being a princess, or a pop star, they dream of having a pony, or having all the Barbie toys that were ever made. My little girl, I decided, was having a dream about her namesake, she was dreaming that she was a wolf running wild and free…excuse me a moment my Little Wolf wants her tummy tickled…what?   Even the toughest wolves like a tickle now and then.  Anyway where were we, arr yes…running wild and free through the forest, on the scent of a hare or perhaps even something bigger?  

She stopped running again and her mouth began to twitch, she stretched her neck out a little and it looked as if she were trying to blow me a kiss, he mouth puckered and pursed and it suddenly dawned on me, she was trying to howl!  I pictured her then, standing on a ridgeline silhouetted by the full moon, her head lifted high as she howled her delight for simply being alive.  My image was shattered seconds later by the pathetic little mewling sound that fought its way out of her mouth, still…in her dream it would have been a howl to freeze the hearts of all who heard it, a howl of a strong and powerful wolf, not just any wolf but a wolf with human tendencies.  In her dreams, Alba, I decided, was a strong and powerful werewolf.

I could be right, or I could be wrong, but there is one thing I know for sure, watching Alba dream and trying to get inside her head, opened the already leaking floodgates of my imagination.  A serve of werewolves, vampires and humans mixed with a dollop of vengeance, betrayal and love.  There had to be a book in there somewhere…and there was.



Run Little Wolf run!


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