Starting to look for the Giant of Book 4 in the Portland Chronicles. I went to Cerne Abbas to look at one of our local Dorset giants; something very grand about his image on the hill. The village is quiet but atmospheric, and the coaching inn has a mysterious atmosphere. I expected a highwayman to ride under the arch on a black horse. Cerne has a timeless quality. I wonder why giants are so intriguing, whether the stories of a race of giants have any meaning other than the mythical. While writing about the Black Dog, I confronted aspects of this myth over several dark winter months; writing can be a journey on many invisible levels. I am wondering where the Island Giant will begin. The Silver Well has wonderful light under the bright Lime trees, ribbons tied to the twigs for wishes.
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