It will be a comfort to some to know that today has been cool and rainy and without sun. Reminds me of home. Very conducive to work, of course. I was up early, transcribing some stuff from my big brown notebook onto the laptop.
This is always an interesting part of the process. Sometimes the words and phrases stay rock solid in their original inspirational form. Sometimes they are a launching pad for a whole new set of ideas or movements in the story. Sometimes I change a word or phrase and change it again until it makes proper sense. And I know that one way or another these transcribed and evolved texts from the flood of ideas on the pages of the notebook will end up between the covers of the book.
I made notes about a dream I had straight out of the 1970s. I was in this room entirely covered with silky black drapes trimmed with silvery white ribbons. More bordello than funeral parlour, I have to say. I was aware that I had lots to discard from the room before it would work for me. There is a person waiting patiently. I remember his face. Distinctive bones, slightly fleshy.Olive skin Black hair. Thick at the back. Combed across at the front, almost obscuring bright blue eyes full of questions, gleaming with knowledge and fun.
I think someone has just walked into my story.
Later, sitting sheltering from the rain (not the sun…) I watch the regular clown who makes swans out of balloons and has a Mr Punch squeaker, making his Pied Piper way around the market.
And I note that three kisses are the de rigeur greeting in this part of the world.