Well, the monks were the ones that contacted me in the first place. Literally, I began dreaming about them. I would find them in different places, but invariably, they would speak something to me and I could not remember what they said upon waking. So I chose to believe they were trying to tell me …
In the year that I’ve been struggling with my novel I’ve learned to recognize the time-wasters that capture my interest so readily. I can smell them coming down the hall. So when the idea for this blog “popped into my head,” I detected the subtle metallic odour of the time-waster almost immediately.
It’s true what I say about the monks. They do indeed speak to me in dreams. Their faces come out of the darkness, candle-light flashing on their cheeks, and they whisper in my ear. I smell their body stench and beery breath, and their words are only barely recognizable. They step back, wait for a …
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