a character emerges

It begins with a character, usually, and once he stands up on his feet and begins to move, all I can do is trot along behind him with a paper and pencil trying to keep up long enough to put down what he says and does.
- William Faulkner

I'm always curious to know what people think about when they're on a train. Especially when it's rush hour - eyes glazed over, cell phones clutched, on the verge of collapse from a long day's work. What do they think about when they steal a glance at their neighbor's laptop or catch themselves following a coffee spill as it makes its way through the cracks and crevices of the train car floor? What goes through their heads when they see the man with a cowboy hat, the woman with the crazy hair, or the train conductor who looks like he's punched way to many tickets? Or when they see the buildings, houses, faded store displays, junkyards, and platforms as the train rolls through?

For me, stories come to life. It's never just one, but a handful of dark and twisted, sweet and comical, strange and ironic tales that only have taglines, but no exposition. . . not yet anyway.

Characters take shape. Not the characters sitting there on the train, but completely new ones edged into existence by the images in front of me. Shy personalities with secret motives and young faces with old souls, unseen destinies and forgotten pasts.

A girl, her family, and the countryside. Two dwarves and a grandfather clock. Murder and a caretaker, kidnapping and a secret passageway.

It all begins to make sense. . . starting with page one.