Ideas coming thick and fast.
You know a productive day lies ahead when every sinew and morsel in you is planning meals around your writing schedule. Fun activities pale into the back-burner in comparison. Writing consumes you.
I have this one scene; dear goodness...I'm about 4,000 words away from writing it. I can't wait. I will craft it. I will make it poetic. I will do it justice.
As I think I mentioned in a previous post; at my Gran's funeral (she lived to 100), a random person at her wake said, I read your book; I really like how you capture the light-hearted moments and then throw me into the dark without warning.
I think I'll try that again. Can't wait.
The title for this book - btw - is: The Children at the End of the River.
In a dark place, when I had the virus back in March; and I'm talking the nadir of nadir's...this idea came.
I was taking a trip down memory lane, using google maps to scour places I'd visited as a kid. Forested places. Country roads that wind to nowhere. I was thinking about my Grandpa who passed away on Christmas Eve and, I guess - in my malaise - using happy memories as some kind of comfort blanket.
Then I scrolled down from above on to the river I used to play in as a child.
Instantly there.
I hope I look back on this profound moment of darkness in my own life and realise that I was actually being thrown into the light.
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