Just when I’ve decided my genre is definitely untimely death, something from the not too distant past comes along and propels me from my comfort zone. A chance read of one of my children’s stories by an illustrator has opened up a new horizon. His son had enjoyed it and he asked why it had no pictures.
‘You’re right, you can’t,’ he observed candidly. ‘But I can.’
So at the most inconvenient time (36,000+ words into a thriller) suddenly life lobs a curved ball at me. The question is, do I lob it back? No chance – let the next adventure begin!
Spent Wednesday discussing possibilities for a new children’s character. And I promise not to let him (or her) turn into a serial killer. WTS