They say the pictures are better on radio than TV, because your mind comes up with its own.  Books are much the same, because we each create the author’s world in our own way.  The written descriptions might channel our vision, but even so.  If we take my own books, I’m sure that any of my readers could summon a picture of Hazel, Tina or Annie into their mind’s eye.  But if we could project those images onto a screen so that others could see them, I’m sure we’d each have very different pictures.

It’s the same with locations.  As regular readers, you could probably take a stroll in your head through Wyeburn or Saltbury.  You probably have a mental picture of St. Ann’s School for Girls, the ‘Cottage’, Hazel and Annie’s beloved woodland walk, or the warehouse flat.  Once again your picture might differ greatly from my own, but the beauty of it is that this doesn’t make your version wrong.  Part of the joy of reading is the work it leaves to your imagination.  So if your version works, it’s every bit as valid as mine.

I find it hard to get to grips with a character until I can get a firm mental picture, not just of how they look, but also the way their mind works.  At present I am working on the first draft of my future book, ‘Debbie’s Gift’ which sees the return of a character who was only mentioned in passing before: Victoria Unwin, a sort of semi-academic, TV mystic, who styles herself ‘Imogen’ because she thinks it sounds more mysterious.  This time round she actually appears, so I needed to form my picture.

The trouble is, as I’ve said before, characters seem to have their own ideas and they don’t always do as they’re told.  My initial idea of Imogen was of a matronly lady in late middle age.  She would wear rather fussy floral dresses, curl her grey hair and festoon herself in cheap, rather nondescript occult jewellery.  She would have a tendency to call virtually everyone ‘Dear’ and to speak with a carefully affected misty voice, which might slip a bit when she got annoyed.

Oh, but she wasn’t going to have that, not for one second.  The Imogen who has now firmly levered herself into place, is a much younger woman: maybe late twenties or early thirties.  She is statuesque and striking, even if not outright beautiful, with a face that perhaps resembles a younger version of Anjelica Huston in her role as Morticia Addams.  She wears expensive, sheer black clothes, often bespoke trouser suits, and enhances her stature with extremely high heels.  She even uses old fashioned pincenez glasses which she hangs from a black ribbon around her neck.  All of this contrasts starkly with her near waist-length hair, which she dyes metallic silver.  She still wears jewellery, but instead of the cloud of cheap tat, she might have a single beautifully crafted brooch with a mystic symbol, such as the Ancient Egyptian eye of Horus, and perhaps a pair of tasteful gold earrings.  She drips money, but very tastefully applied.  She is elegant in her movements and speaks with a quiet authority, without ever appearing arrogant.

So, there stands Imogen.  A bit of a change from the eccentric grandmotherly figure I originally pictured, but so be it.  Oh, and she has plans for dear Hazel: and how!  What are they?  Well now, watch this space.