Building the City in my Cyberpunk Novel.

Chapter 11 has me nailed down to a standstill - currently. But honestly, it feels like a lifetime of staring at a screen, desperately willing the words to flow. I think I'd have more luck making a stone bleed.

Transmission #002

 Transmission Time: 18:46.

... I stumbled across a locked room. The lock was so old it broke without much effort ...

... this is impossible ...

... I now have access to a computer, and it has power ...

... this is not right. Screen says it was accessed yesterday ...

... I hear whispering again, but closer, getting closer ...

End Transmission.

Transmission #001

 Transmission Time: 06:06.

... I dreamt about her again. Who she is I have no idea ...

... during my waking hours I find little things aren't where I left them ...

... sat at my computer I swear someone stroked my back, but when I turned there was no one ...

... still no contact with the outside world ...

... I refuse to go down the south corridor. I hear whispering. It stops every time I call out to it ...

End Transmission.

New Direction. New Frequency.

 Welcome to this, the first transmission of The Raillin Frequency. This is a departure from my previous skin, and now I'm donning something more aligned with what I'm about.

Previously I had considered closing the doors, pulling down the blinds and turning off the power to this platform of mine. And for a while I turned my back on it, not fully prepared for that final throwing of the switch.

Now I understand why the hesitation. Something inside me knew it would be a mistake and stayed my hand. 

It made me realise I'm an individual who isn't shut into a box of literary creativity on the tramlines of a specific genre, but rather someone who has breadth and depth on a scope of ideas, visions, topics and conversations, and is also rooted to the ground - the type of individual you can approach for a conversation. That's how I see myself.

This is my window, through which I let my mind flow freely, and let others peer in. For me the view is ever changing, a landscape of possibilities begging to be discovered laid across the vista of my imagination.

I've finally accepted my place in this world, that of a writer - and that's been a massively freeing revelation, but I couldn't have got here alone. For that, I have my dear friend Sophie to thank for the gentle encouragement and confidence that helped me recognise where my true path lay.

Thank you, Sophie, I shall never forget, and I look forward to the many walks of the imagination ahead of us.

So now a turn of the dial, slipping to a different frequency, where music holds sway.

I give you, from the IndieAir Channel, Lord Huron - "The Night We Met".