I had a great evening at the theatre with an intelligent and well-mannered man. I appreciate his company right now. The warm welcome last month from my beautiful friends in Italy meant so much to me. I long to see those wonderful mountains each morning when I visit next Spring. I am grateful to so many special people.
Do I regret writing this blog? Whatever I write is bound to be picked up and distorted by those who wish me ill. On the other hand, I regret deeply the loss of someone I had valued and loved. I am lonely without his companionship. Everyone knows it and makes allowances for my dark moods. This will take a very long time. I never entirely get over these things. Sometimes I don’t see that the other person might not be genuine. There were faults on both sides.
Thrilled with Bob Dylan’s Nobel Prize for Literature, announced today. Finally lyrics, which are my generation’s poetry, are acknowledged properly. We may not remember the poems we learnt in school, but we know the words of every song we sang out loud on the dancefloor.
Getting to a critical point in the book now. The characters are more complex and they are pulling me in a very different direction. I am amazed by how much space there is within the narrative to bend the original plot into something quite unintended. I am sensing that the ending will be painful for me to write. Really dramatic or distressing scenes are incredibly hard to put down on paper. There are literally tears on the manuscript sometimes.
The characters have grown from the one-dimensional people I started with into something far more complex. At this stage they have a life of their own. They have real personalities that I can no longer connect to multiple characters from whom I may have drawn my inspiration. They are finally living. I have a good title which I think serves the story and has an element of irony. The story does have overtones of the film, Kind Heart and Coronets, although with a twist. In the end, the reader must decide for themselves whether the deaths were murder or an accident. I have planted the evidence for both senarios, so all the clues are there and well hidden. What do I think? I will keep that to myself.
Another month to six weeks should see the book published. On my birthday, I think. Seeing your book out there is still the most wonderful feeling, so it will make a good birthday present as I don’t remember the last time I received one. The closer I get to completion, the worse the nightmares become. I have not worked this one out yet, but it has happened before. One problem is I can’t read anything else at this stage and I have John Le Carre’s autobiography sitting next to my bed begging me to read it. If only I could write half as well as he does. For now I will keep on trying.