The more she wrote, the louder the stories seemed to grow, swirling in her mind, pressing against her head, anxious for release. She didn’t know whether they were any good and in truth she didn’t care. They were hers, and writing them made them real somehow. Characters who’d danced around inside her mind grew bolder on the page. They took on new mannerisms she hadn’t imagined for them, said things she didn’t know they thought, began to behave unpredictably.
Kate Morton The Forgotten Garden p. 326
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Reblogged this on Top Spills and commented:
Writing is an itch we have to scratch.
Indeed.
Thank You for sharing this Mz Bird, inspiring another piece They and I just wrote. ‘Transcending Their Pages’ 😀
Coincidence?
The Muses doing their Happy Dance!
Terpsikore likes to make her sisters dance, it’s true.
Characters have written many a poem and many a novel. We become merely vehicles for them to drive across the pages.
So true