Sorting through photo albums, reassigning, rescuing and preserving memories, took on a more urgent task on hearing that present technology will be superseded leaving our store of images backed up in computers, unobtainable. And though many on photographic paper have blurred with, surpisingly or not, the black and white, maintaining a better definition, they are all precious.
This blurring and the sharper lines have made me more aware of what happens with the characters I find to write about. Occasionally I fish around in my past for a person who has a relevant tale to tell, a place in my writing that can be subverted to the needs of the plot. Or more usually one rises to the surface to say ‘look at me’.
An aunt has come back to haunt with a related incident retold many times in my childhood. That’s a starting point from which I will deviate to find someone different, leaving merely a theme that hangs between us both. A short story, ‘Foxy Lady’.