It has been quite some time since my last post. Work, as it so often does, took over. Immersed in the fictional world of Danny Lane, a world of complex dilemmas and rich, multilayered relationships, writing anything else just, I’m afraid, didn’t come easy. A third person, multiple viewpoint novel, The Architect is by far my most demanding (and rewarding) to date; intended as the first in a series of emotionally and thematically intricate psychological thrillers, I am challenging myself in ways I never have before. And so far I am very pleased with how I’m faring.
One hundred thousand words in (about halfway through) I’m now on my Christmas break. I say “break” but while I will indeed be recharging my creative batteries, I will also be revving up the Christmas promotional engine for The Legacy of Lorna Lovelost.
For once, however, my work is not the most interesting development in my life. It went something like this …
A few years back I was fortunate enough to meet the delightful Ceri Louise Davies on Twitter. There is some uncertainty on quite how this happened, though I kind of think Franny Kirby, a mutual friend, introduced us or at least inadvertently brought us together. Either way, we became friends, chatted on and off, I managed to flog her a copy of The Realm of the Hungry Ghosts a good while back (she’s nearly finished it! … Sorry, love, it had to be done!)—and it might have continued like that ad infinitum.
But it didn’t.
A few months back, the conversations started to become longer—the space between them shorter—and pretty soon we were talking every day, all through the day.
Now, I can be a little slow on the uptake but by this point—after knowing Ceri for a mere three or four years—well, even if I was beginning to work out that something was going on here.
Yes, I was falling. Had fallen.
In a passage from The Architect, written before Ceri and I let each other know how we feel about each other, I wrote something that foreshadowed what was about to come in ways that I could never have then imagined:
“I knew for the very first time why the process of growing to love someone is so often described as an act of falling. That letting go. That sense of events taking over. The delightfully heady lack of control. It was all there. Immediately. I never for one moment believed that she would feel the same way, of course, but I hoped—and as we saw each other again, friends from day one, we found an easy, steady way forward that … well, it just seemed natural.”
Those final four words truly hit the nail on the head—I mean, it was like, you know, we’d known each other for years! (Oh, wait a minute …)
So right now I feel pretty bloody fortunate. Life is good and, while there may be a few bumps in the road ahead, I—not someone overly inclined towards optimism—am feeling extremely positive. Surprises don’t usually sit well with me … but this time? As long as they are all like this, let there be more …
© 2013 Gary William Murning