I was driving down Interstate 5 with this scene playing in front of my eyes. I knew it wasn’t real. I knew there really wasn’t a grove of trees or a high priestess on the hood of my car. But it seemed real. I called my best friend with my Bluetooth firmly ensconced in my ear, describing the scene as it unfolded and speeding down the road to an appointment.
For an intense five months the heroines in my stories appeared. I saw them, heard their voices and felt their joy and their fear. I watched them interact with each other, listened to their inner most thoughts and was privy to each of their dreams.
I am entranced with their stories. I dream about them (and I, who seldom remember dreams, have these etched in my soul). They go to the store with me, fold laundry and just hang out with me.
Writing their stories. Writing about The Circle. Writing about their spiritual practices. I read the story as it unfolds before my eyes on the computer screen.
Plot? The idea that I will shape their lives doesn’t compute. How can I? I am their story teller. My role is to show you their lives to the best of my ability. Perhaps when The Women’s Circle series is completed, I’ll need to explore another way to write but for now, these women, my friends in spirit, come to me when I sit at the computer, whisper in my ear and my fingers fly over the keys as I tell you their story.