
Finally, I’ve found the perfect place to hole-up and finish the second book.
After a weekend of walking on moors American backpackers should be wary of, watching five horror movies, almost back-to-back, reading Clive Barker where pretty much everything is hell bound, my iPod shuffles through score upon score from Stephen King movies — Michael Kamen builds a tension a little too real — and I start.
A nervous first word. A second. It is like the patter of raindrops. They may only be a shower, but I really need a downpour. Here goes nothing.
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Check out the next Newsletter for my step-by-step guides showing how I did this, or tried to do that.
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