The ghosts at the gate

Let them in…










I already have a general idea in my head what the sequel needs to be about. I can see it forming in my mind’s eye like a figure in the mist. Not quite sure what it is, but there’s enough there to draw some conclusions.

And I know if I just sit my ass down and start to sketching those oddly formed bits of sketches running around in my head trying to get some attention that it will all begin to flow as it always does. Because writing for me is like transcribing. I open the gates and the characters come in to introduce themselves, anxious to defend their existence, or to explain it.

But the lock is still on the gate and here I sit, looking out at the characters as they stare back at me.


This is being cross-posted at Detroit Ink Publishing

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Writer and musician.

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