So…the reason for my relative silence has been, of course, work, and er, work, and er…the interview over on www.missbluestocking.wordpress.com and er, more work…and ah, blockage.
Because having come to a segment of the novel which I have known had to be there from the very outset…that is to say, having got there, having got my character there as instructed by the muse or whoever is running this particular show, I had no idea whatsoever what I was meant to do with him there. Or why he was there. Or if I was being obsessed. Or twee. Or just plain fruity.
So there I am, staring at this character in this room, about to meet with this other geezer, in Austria, and I have no idea what comes next.
Which I find can stall the process. To say the least.
So I sat there. And sat there. And took several long walks. And listened to the second movement of the Fifth Symphony by Beethoven. (Do not ask my why, for I haven’t the faintest…)
And suddenly, I knew. Why he was there. What he was doing there. What he’d been doing all along. Suddenly, I knew.
And this is the wonderful thing about being a writer.
For you see, I didn’t need to know before. Not really. I didn’t need to know everything about this character; I didn’t need to understand all his secrets. Even though I may have thought I did.
Because at the moment I did need to know something, there it was. And it was better than I could have invented had I worked on it for weeks. Because I just wouldn’t have thought of it. But there it is.