SPARKS - sometimes

I used to worry about the why of writing. Worried, too, about whether I had something to say and looked for truths to share with others that would make their reading of my writing worth something. Now I see it differently and trust that what I say will be worth listening to, not for the messages so much as for the telling... of stories. And where they come from is always a mystery, handed to me it seems sometimes, sparking off things seen or dreamed, words heard or lines read.

At the moment I am embarked on a truly exciting project with another writer. She wrote a flash fiction piece, posted it on a writers' forum, a letter from someone who calls herself Kafka's Aunt. The letter begged for a response, or so I felt, and so I replied, in character. Almost fifty letters later an intriguing surreal relationship has developed between a lower government official and an elderly woman complaining about the state of road crossings where she walks, and stories spinning off of what she writes and what he writes, like magic, like sparks and the sparks bright and sharp.

Kafka's Aunt is Vanessa Gebbie.

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