I went on with the writing yesterday evening; got through the next scene okay, then got bogged down again. I want to yell at it, but know this wouldn't help. I have committed one of the classic beginner's bad-writing errors, right at the end of the story, and I have to sort it out.
The characters do what I had decided the plot required, rather than what real people would do in their situation. Ah, horsehit and a pile of it, to quote Rhodry Maelwaedd. I have to completely rewrite the last two scenes. Sorry, this may take a few days, and I have to resist the distraction urge meanwhile ("Why not make a start on those short stories again?" "Why not put on a U2 album and draw?" "Why not make muffins?"...).
Never mind; it will get there, in its own good time. Meanwhile, the first real daffodil is out in my garden. Kew has quite a lot of them by now, of course, but I'm a lot more proud of my own personal one.
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