Hi, future readers.
Ten years ago, I purchased a photography book about the circus. The black and white photographs, mainly from the Victorian Era to the 1930s. The pictures haunted me. The black and white tones, the sterile glares in some, joy in others. The animals, the caravans, the gang of clowns huddled together with their white face paint and false smiles and frowns. But, there was one photograph that struck, I thought of her often. I looked at that picture, studied her, wondered who she was and what type of life she had to endure. Then, she began to talk to me and introduced me to her friends. Then, those friends told me who they were until I had a whole menagerie of characters. They sat with me during idle times during work, until one day, my mind flooded with the plot. I didn’t know I was ever going to write a book, and to think of the time, energy, and pain associated with writing 80,000 words deterred me before, but now I had a real adventure.