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You must understand that when you are writing a novel you are not making anything up. It’s all there and you just have to find it.
At the time, I myself was accruing painful memories every day, and in my evening’s work I felt for Graham.
I found that I could leave Chilton in the cabin with the lights on and look back at him from the dark, surrounded by my friends the dogs. I was invisible then, out there in the dark, the way I am invisible to my characters when I’m in a room with them and they are deciding their fates with little or no help from me.
As a sultan once said: I do not keep falcons—they live with me.
