
Lawrence C. Cobb
Fiction Writer
Myth, history, mortality — and the impossible arriving in the middle of an ordinary afternoon.
The Origin
The first idea came to me in high school. For seven years I did nothing with it.
I assumed it would fade the way most ideas do — quietly, without requiring a decision. Instead it kept its place. Whatever I was doing instead of writing, the story went on arranging itself.
I thought, eventually, the idea would leave.
It didn’t.
It grew.
Seven Years, Three Artifacts



One story did not remain alone.
Once the writing began, characters wanted histories, and those histories held stories of their own. What was meant to be a single book became a saga — and beside it, two others arrived: a courteous bargain struck with the living, and a monster who was only ever a woman.
Seven years was long enough to leave one story unwritten. I do not intend to do the same with the rest.
