All narrative begins for me as listening. When I read, I listen. When I write, I listen – for silence, inflection, rhythm, rest. Then comes the image, the picture of the thing that I have to invent: the headless bride in her wedding dress; the forest clearing. There is performance, too: “zzz went the saw,” accompanied by gesture. And cadence: “Old man Simon Gillicutty, caaatch me.” I need to use everything – sound, image, performance – to get at the full meaning of the story.