I write best when I’m alone.  Today the house is quiet, our children have grown and moved on, my husband left for work, and I sit at my computer and write.  My old dog, Daisy, rests her head against my foot and the contact is comforting for both of us. Then I start to write.  One by one, my characters join me.  They laugh when I laugh, they cry when I cry.  They fill the room as they fill my heart and mind.  The phone rings, it disrupts my thoughts and my characters fade away.  After the phone call, I start clicking away at the keys once again, and for a moment, I mourn for the ideas that slipped away, but soon new ideas take their place.  I used to worry about the ideas that were lost, but now I feel like it was meant to be so that the new ideas could form and take root.  Perhaps my characters knew there was a better way to tell the story?

It isn’t long before my characters return.  So the story continues, and once again, my house is full.