the muse speaketh

As of tonight I must admit the book I am currently deep into writing was officially NOT written by me. From now on in I bow to my Muse. For there have been far far too many freaky moments writing this book I now officially believe that he really does exist.

Take the fact that my hero’s name is Cameron Kelly. A couple of weeks back I needed a name for his old school so went looking for the name of a catholic saint to find there were hundreds to choose from. Deciding to simply pick a name I liked the sound of St Grellans it was. At the last minute I thought I'd better wikipedia St Grellan to see what he was about. Guess what? He was the Patron Saint of the Kelly clan.

Colour me gobsmacked.

Then tonight I needed Cameron to compare Rosalind with an old painting. Botticelli came to mind as he evoked images of beautiful women with pale skin, and soft flowing golden locks which is what my Rosie is all about. When I found his most famous painting, you know the lady in the clam shell, it looked so much like Rosie I thought, ‘That’s the one!’ The paintings name? The Birth of Venus. My heroine’s occupation? She’s an astronomer whose speciality is...you guessed it. Venus.

Well...pe...che...yuh huh!