I never know where I'm headed when I'm working on a book.
Things, very strange things, happen in folktales and there is never much attention given to the whys and wherefores.
We grow, we mature, some of us give birth, we age, we die.
But every age deserves its fashion and its forms, and no one can control what survives.
Why did people try to shush trouble away as if it were an unruly child?
Writing, for me, is always a dance between the critical part of my brain and the subconscious.