Or so I hope.
I’ve not been writing much for the past couple of weeks because instead I have been devouring books. And I do mean devouring. I’ve finished two trilogies in the past week and a half and have made a dent in the first book of another.
Meanwhile, my characters are chilling on a roadside waiting for me to go back to them. I feel guilty at abandoning them in the middle of nowhere but the thing is, since I’ve fallen in the midst of other worlds, my own has flourished.
My magic has a history and with it I’ve learnt a lot more of about the politics of the gods. I have an adorable anecdote behind the alias a character takes on later in the world and my notebooks are filling up from other small details.
This is one of the things I love about writing, the fact that it can be prompted and encourage by anything, especially great writing from someone else.