I’ve written a lot of material throughout my life – from little notes of encouragement to weekly 1500-word kid’s stories, fluffy chick romances, a mystery or two and even my dissertation which took a whole different mindset to do. Each one took thought and effort in varying degrees. And each had an impact on my life in some form. But most of the end products just flushed out of my feeble little brain in the natural ebb and flow of the process … get rid of some to make room for more.

Please don’t think that I’m pushing these stories that I’ve put on Amazon and those I’ve been talking about “coming soon” out like syrup-drenched pancakes on lazy Sunday mornings. With the exception of the last one (Almost Brilliant), I’ve been working on these things over the course of at least 30 years. I wrote 13B in the 80’s and polished the manuscript up for the competition the story won in 2000. Raven has been a work in progress since the 90’s and all of my children’s stories were birthed between 1992 and 1994. Lots of time to think and plan and redo and polish … and still, as any writer will tell you, there is much that could be redone about each one even after they’re in print. But Scabby*, the main character in my NaNoWriMo story which I published in ebook form, has had the most impact on me.

I always like the characters I write … at least, the nice ones. The bad ones … well, my job as writer is to make us both hate them. There is nothing to hate about Scabby. Even though, in some peoples’ eyes he may – or may not – have had an ever-so-slight hand in possibly, maybe, urging someone to pass into the next dimension (still no admission of guilt here), he was a nice guy.

He lived his life his own way. Never tried to push his ideals on him. Didn’t hate anyone for skin tone, religious ideals or any other trait. He just got on with the general stuff of life. Would that more people in the world could adopt such a philosophy!

I finished the main story in six week and I still miss him in the corner of my head, whispering, “Tell them about this now…” or “No, not that way. Fix that.”

I miss him nudging me to the computer to write the next part or to review what we just did at all hours. Heavy sigh. I wish there was a way to write another story with Scabby. In the immortal words of The Bard (yup! I’m going there!) “Alas poor Scabby. I knew him well. Good night sweet friend … and goodbye.”

Or something like that!