How it came to be

One night, I had a very vivid dream.  I am pretty sure most authors say that.  At least, that's what Stephanie Meyer said when she came up with Twilight.  I had tried writing stories before, but never really got into it.  At first, I thought this was going to be the same, so I decided instead of writing a book, I would tell a story.  I sat down with no particular goal in mind, no grand story line, no idea what the world or the people looked like.  I just sat down and started typing.

Song Bird was born.  I intended it to be a standalone short story and when I shared it with my mother, she asked where the rest was.  I laughed and said, "That's it.  It's a short story, nothing more."  I am not kidding, she glared at me for twenty minutes demanding the rest of the story and a box of Kleenex.  Apparently, I had mastered the art of making her cry.  So at first, I resisted the urge to continue fearful I would never finish.

Day after day, it nagged at me.  I practically heard a voice in the back of my mind telling me it was unfinished, prompting me to go on.  Now, as many people who know me will say, I am addicted to stories.  I cannot watch a television show unless we have an entire season because I do not handle waiting for the story to go on.  I watch 50 shows in a weekend because I cannot wait for the rest.  So when the story demanded I finished it, my resolve snapped like a brittle twig in the dead of winter.

I became entirely enthralled literally typing away any chance I found.  The story just spilled out.  I did not plan, I did not brainstorm, I simply free-wrote.  I cannot tell you how surprised I was at every turn.  I cannot possibly express the sorrow I felt as I realized the fate of my characters.  I was merely a vessel, a storyteller of the Silent Symphony.