As writers, great and small, we live and work behind closed doors, up to the point when we reveal ourselves, as if by magic, either in person facing an agent, or, if we are already known and published, via the industry, editors and even the media, or indirectly and more stealthily through the social networks.  Likewise our characters remain hidden, cocooned as it were, in those first and second drafts, those timid excerpts, that sometime we  dare uncover in our writer’s blogs as a permanent feature or as guests of some other friendly author, unless they exist already, in the reading world of published work.  Our writing lives are made of those not so rational decisions, coerced by inspiration or its opposite, events in our realities, and influence from people we love, or love to read.  And we would not have it any otherwise.

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