Spent the afternoon consulting a Yiddish dictionary and the Episcopal Hymnal (1982). A writer's life. Two thousand words some of which are not English.
It is interesting, as you get deeper and deeper into a book, to examine your thought processes . When I first get an idea it is all intellectual. The questions are related to who is my protagonist and what is her motivation. Then, unbidden, a character will begin to talk to me. Sometimes it is the protagonist who is speaking. Sometimes it is the person I think is the protagonist but who eventually takes a back seat. [In In Between Goodbyes Ian was supposed to be my protagonist but Hope took over]. Sometimes it is just the dog.
Suddenly, in a rush the narrative and the dialogue all come tumbling out. People overtalk each other. Characters explain their motivation. Then, for a while it is all silence, as if someone yelled "Cut." I can't get anyone to talk. But that is necessary for people and narrative to straighten itself out. I get antsy.
Today everyone started talking at once. I was compelled to sit and type about Rome, about spiritual directors, about a tiny world that was shaping itself.
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