![]() Whichever kind my lighthouse was, why might it be the last? (You see? Already it was my lighthouse.) That title also led me to recall a Rosemary Sutcliffe novel about a young Roman soldier in Britain, and the vivid scene where he is standing in the lighthouse at Dover watching the last Roman ship leave without him. ![]() But it could also be seen as a guide to safe harbor. It wasn’t the meat of the essay that got my juices flowing, but the title.Ī lighthouse is usually a warning. It happened on the day I heard a National Public Radio feature story called The Last Lighthouse. As happens with many certainties, that conviction was eventually splintered. ![]() Here’s how it went:įor years I was convinced that the only way I could develop a novel was to begin with an impression of a character in a difficult situation and grow the story and its events and themes from there. Every novel results from layers of ideas, and this one did so in spades. Going in search of the big idea that drove my new book, Dust and Light, into being got me running in circles. For her novel Dust and Light, author Carol Berg takes a look at some of the more mundane aspects of magic - that’s “mundane” as in “practical,” not as in “boring” - and shows how a story can build from the rules and traditions a writer places on its use. ![]()
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