The shift that happens for a writer, usually from one genre to another, is likely because one of the silent characters has decided to remain silent no longer. He (or she) screams their thoughts until their words permeat mine. It is then that I go to stillness, listen, and begin typing what I hear them say.
Today, the shift happened. I was drawn to the image of an abandoned building – the Trans-Allegheny Lunatic Asylum in Weston, West Virgina to be exact.