Silence is often misunderstood in storytelling. It is treated as absence, something that exists only when words are missing. But in my writing, silence is not absence. It is presence in a different form. Narrative silence appears in pauses, in transitions, and in the space between actions. It is not empty. It is active, even if it does not announce itself.
I rarely begin writing with a clear boundary between imagination and reality. Instead, I begin with something that feels in-between. A moment, a feeling, or an observation that does not fully belong to either side. It is in this space that stories begin to take shape.
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When I begin writing a story, I rarely think in terms of explanation. I think in terms of presence. There is a difference between telling someone what something means and allowing them to feel it unfold on their own. Over time, I have become more interested in the second approach.