At one point yesterday, there were eight dogs clustered in the area around the fireplace -- our six plus Justin and Claui's two. Carolina football was on (don't ask) and as I tried to thread my way among the people and dogs to put another log on the fire, John commented that I looked as if I were playing that party game from some years back -- what was it called? -- oh, yes, Twister.
This is pretty much how yesterday went -- the dogs napped; I brought my laptop downstairs to write by the fire because my workroom was too cold for anything approaching comfort.
Miss Birdie is still leading me in strange paths -- tango, films of the Thirties, raven mockers, eugenics, and more.
And the characters are really telling me the story now. I begin a scene and they take it where they want it. Sometimes they even turn out not to be who I thought they were.
I wouldn't have it any other way -- It's like watching a movie in my head and hurrying to record the action and the dialogue. Except that these character are often prone to wordiness and I have occasionally to rap on their heads and beg them to get to the point and not be so enamoured with their own silly conversations.
Getting closer. But, oh, for the luxury of several years to research and polish!