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Writing Wendl...

I really did want to write a light-hearted tale in case this one turns out to be my last novel (assuming it yet becomes a novel), but it's headed currently toward the shadows. I thought I knew Wendl Von Trier pretty well, having trekked with him through my previous book, The Winged Child .   There, Wendl presents as an elusive solitary, moving above all worldly fray while at the same time nudging events and characters toward a satisfactory conclusion. Sharp and intimidating on the outside and tender and motherly on the inside. A friend to the world, something of a trickster, but in all things working for good outcomes.  That is how I saw Wendl VonTrier. A  púka, mischievous, but essentially harmless, even benevolent, capable of presenting in whatever form or gender the moment required. Wendl seemed the ideal candidate to carry readers off into the literary sunset in good spirits after an exhilarating romp through a fantastical fiction. But all along, it seems, there were depths to

A room with a view...

 

Even though a friend warns us it is the ultimate test of a marriage, the Main Muse and I have decided to share an office to optimize the space in our little house. In preparation for the move, I've shifted my work station over by the window where I can look out across my wee garden.

Time will tell if that will prove inspiration or distraction. At any rate, I will no longer need to leave my desk and cross the room in order to assess our agricultural configuration.

 

Henry's books. 

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