Cry Me a River

A very health breakfast.

My imagination is often very visual. I see the things I want to write and then I search for the words. For a little while at school, I thought perhaps I was a screenwriter, not a novelist.

For a long time I have had an image in my head from the book that who knows if I will ever write. A woman in tears wades out into a river and stands weeping in the water. She cries so hard, her tears turn the river into a frothing torrent about her. When the waters subside, there is a rock in the place where she stood, and she has disappeared to fairyland, swept away by a kelpie.

Sometimes I feel like I could cry up my own raging river. Perhaps that's where the picture came from, through eye blurring tears, that roll down your cheeks and splash on the floor. I've certainly cried some floods. So far though, no kelpies.