Today I went to the Museum of London, and found the door to Newgate Prison. I saw it in front of me, heavy and dark and surprisingly small. I touched it, felt the iron beneath my fingers, measured my hand against the bolt, weighed the padlock. I stood there for at least quarter of an hour, just touching and watching and feeling and looking at this door.
I may not even use it. I think i might, but so far, all my research is speculative. It’s just random research, seeing what triggers, what fits, what can fall by the wayside. But it’s important that wherever I can, I see what I might write about. I touch it if I can.
The stories begin here, with me trying to connect to the past. I read about it, and find it, and see it and touch it. And then the story comes.