There was a sense of detachment as I walked this morning; of being connected to everything and nothing at the same time. Of looking in on myself.
It’s a still September morning and a mist scarfed the mountains of Snowdonia. I could hear every footstep as I walked along the lane, every voice carried in the cool air, every car somewhere on the top road.
And I could hear the soft jangle of Rosie’s lead as we walked. Me and my little dog.
And as if all sound dropped I had this thought — what if I am the only person left in the world? Imagine if no one else is here. If I open my eyes and everything I know is gone.
I have these odd thoughts and lately a few have come, all dully noted in my book. I am running my workshop on How to Write A Psychological Thriller in November, and in much the same way a new story will percolate, drip slowly into being while I’m not thinking about it, so the ideas that will form the basis of this workshop will do the same. I am setting an exercise and so these scenarios are all part of that. All to be explained later.
But as I rounded the corner of the lane, in the odd but beautiful silence, I knew what was missing from the new scene I’m writing for I Am Wolf when our protagonist goes back to the village north of Moscow where the feral child was found; now nothing more than a ghost town, every person long left for the city — something that happened a lot in Russia in the 90s. I need this same sense of peace and disquiet. That is how I imagine such a place would feel.
Even in the peace, we find answers.
And I will leave you with that thought.