My late husband would talk about character development, problems and issues with me every evening at suppertime. I miss those talks terribly now. As a new writer myself, I can now appreciate the need for feedback. Those were some of the most enjoyable conversations we ever had, and we had many. His creative mind never stopped working. It was sometimes exhausting to be around him. He was like a dynamo, but that’s OK. Art never apologizes, nor should it.
Sometimes I’d wake up at 3 a.m. and he’d be talking in his sleep about characters in his works. Being around a creative genius (and he was that) was pretty tiring. He was worth every minute. We miss him like a pain. I’ll start marketing his books again soon, because he had a voice that deserves to be heard. That’s the least I can do. Miss you much, my Morris.