I've done over 80,000 words but I need a good finale. Yesterday I left the heroine kidnapped by the baddies (or as I said to Husband, 'The kidnap's been heroined,') leaving me today with the problem of how she was to escape. Husband suggested a ninja golden retriever or failing that a masked man. 'Then,' he said, 'the sequel could be Who Was That Masked Man?' Not totally convinced by either of those ideas I put it to my facebook friends who also came up with some useful thoughts including: Robyn's handsome prince, Steve's rapture (Christian end of the world thing), Rob van Tol tellingly having the heroine wearing a flouncy petticoat under which she has hidden a gun/sword/machete, or the thug having an undiagnosed heart condition and an attack - an unexpressed concern of Nick's maybe? (From which she saves him so he lets her go - that's a bit I added).
None of those really worked for me although I will be considering for my next novel a mask-and-petticoat-wearing ninja princess with a sloppy dog and a large gun collection who persuades God that it's too soon for the rapture as she still has a thug to bring over to the good side.
So I had to turn to the old faithful paper and pencil to brain storm ideas. (I know brain storm is no longer pc but I don't know what the alternative is.)
With the result that I've got a bit closer to my finale but I'm not there yet.
One of the reasons that I've been able to spend time writing is that I have been putting off going to Sainsburys. Yesterday we had butternut squash risotto for dinner; today it was butternut squash soup.Now I'm wondering if I can persuade Husband that butternut squash curry would make a good dinner for tomorrow.
And part of my reluctance to go shopping is down to the dreadful weather we're having at the moment. Summer has well and truly gone - though we were lucky it lasted as long as it did - and the storms of autumn have arrived.
Yesterday the sun was shining when I suggested that Husband join us for a walk around the cliffs. By the time we got back to the car after our walk I was wet through to my knickers, my Eric Morecambe shorts were clinging uncomfortably to my legs and my feet were squelching inside my trainers - and I wasn't even walking in the torrential streams running down the hill from the drain overload.
It was a moment when I regretted my thrift in suggesting we parked on the road rather than in the closer car park.
Apparently the storm and the winds were very fierce last night too but I wouldn't know as I slept through them.
P.S. I am DEFINITELY NOT going to enter NaNoWriMo this November. Keep reminding me of that if I seem to waver.