trees in the bubble...

I guess you can call me an artist at work.
My mind is filled with stories yet to be written,  art yet to be seen, imaginary realms that await the moment to be explored.

I have a book in an embryonic phase...It is still in my head...Will it leave my head and make it's new home within the words and phrases especially chosen to house these characters and their happenings? Will they decide to take up residence there, among the punctuation marks and capital letters? Can a story take place in type? Can a character flourish in words alone?  Or is the imagination the only suitable fertile ground for characters to grow, flourish and bloom?
If, in their present state, these unwritten books had the ability to materialize into objects,  they would appear as orbs - translucent, fragile, emerging...yet with billions of thoughts racing through them like pulsating little veins seeking to feed the tree that has rooted within.... 
Yes,they would be round, wonderful spheres, fairy bubbles spun with ribbons of pale, translucent shades, that serve as cocoons for a special tree that grows within and seeks to grow, expand its breadth and flower.
This tree is the "story" - the world that comes to life from the newly created characters and their experiences.

Books in the making are fairy bubbles cocooning their very own unique sapling...