What’s in a story? 

I ask myself this daily now, deep in the throes of nanowrimo.

How can I make people feel, understand, live through the eyes of another?

How do I draw them in, capture them in my web,

Each story a black box, a mystery until it’s opened.

I’m every bit as surprised by what happens as it falls onto my page, sometimes a treasure and sometimes a lodestone.

Almost at the halfway point, November disappearing under my nose,

Full and busy of life and living

And yet,

The page calls, beckoning from that mystery box,

Waiting for me to open it and discover what lies in wait, 

ready to emerge into the light of day.