I prefer winter and fall, when you feel the bone structure of the landscape – the loneliness of it, the dead feeling of winter. Something waits beneath it, the whole story doesn’t show. ~Andrew Wyeth
Writing is like this for me. I have a plot, some characters just the bones of the story. Just the bones are they good bones or not? Only when spring arrives or rather the writing of the book will I know if what is staring at me will blossom into a beautiful bit of prose. OR is it just a weedy tree?