I'm really tired today after another late night typing. I've nearly licked the re-write of the last chapter of "Ramundi's Sisters". It's proving to be tricky going, but I need to get it right - it was all so wrong to start with, it was embarrassing. I've had to scrap a large chunk completely and start again from scratch. But I'm onto the home straight and I can see the light at the end of the tunnel, and all the other clichés - gathered at the end of the road, cheering me on. Nearly home...
I really want to get this sorted out because I've started on something else, too (as well as the two projects on the go, plus the back burner project). I was reminded recently of some short stories I started a few years ago and abandoned (because the linking structure was derivative drivel and proverbial pants). I looked them up and found my notes for another one, and suddenly saw how it would go better than the original plan; and it took off.
Rah, there's nothing like having a story straining at the leash! I love it when my creativity flows like that. And when it does, I've learned I need to go with it as much as possible (given the constraints of normal life). The energy of the Muses is an erratic one, it flows at unexpected intervals; like the Nailbourne, only not made of water and not in Kent.
I promise to get the Ramundis sorted out soon. They deserve it; they've been very patient.
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