At long last, publication date. Years of work, the kernel of an idea, planning and plotting, characters who chose me more than I them, ideas that would not let go. How did it begin? What loosed this train in my mind, barreling down the track, destination unknown? All that mattered in the beginning was the journey, the process. A need. A need to write, to whisper and then shout to readers yet unknown…Hey, have you thought about this? And now to somehow cut through the noise, my publisher and I, somehow make ourselves heard amongst the tens of thousands of others who have something to say, a flash of their own they could not shake. But truth be known, if only one person out there reads my story and cares, if only a single soul is touched by what touched me and sees what I came to see, then it was all worth it. And what was it that grabbed me and shook me and demanded to be heard, insisted that I give voice to its essential truth? Visions, my friends. Visions. A pair of them. Two haunting, beautiful, maddening visions that gave rise to The Atheist and the Parrotfish. Read about them on my publisher’s blog and think about the images from your own life that swirl in your brain.
The things you remember.