I've started writing my next novel!
It's an idea I've been thinking about for a while on and off - in fact I think Husband suggested it originally -and, suddenly, this afternoon the opening lines came to me. Now, normally, I'd just ignore that and keep them in my head until ... until, but in today's energised mood I've written it down.
Now I'm going to create a new folder in my NewNovelist program and start building up characters and worlds. How exciting!
* * * * * *
Writing the word 'until' reminded me of my aunt's funeral 20 years ago maybe. The priest talked about the word 'donec', which is Latin for until, but a fuller more complete term. I think he meant that she was just waiting until, biding her time until, living her life until.
She was married to my uncle and they had one son, a spastic, as he was called in those days, who died about 30 years ago. My aunt devoted her life to caring for him, I think, to the exclusion of all else except her Roman Catholicism. So, according to the priest, when he died it was as if she was merely existing ... donec. Until she would be with her beloved son again when he would be perfect. I remember hearing those words and finding the idea of a life spent in waiting sadder than death.
Gosh, that's gone downhill: from a very excited start to a gloomy end.
Not to worry, I'm about to 'enjoy' low-fat venison in red wine. I'll report back.
P.S. The venison was:
enough for 2;
not helped by me leaving it in the oven too long so the gravy and the meat dried up;
a reminder of Bambi. (I don't think of calves with big brown eyes when I eat beef so I'm not sure what this manifestation was but it put me off.)
Good job I'd filled up on Fingers.