For days now I have been in a literary no mans land.
No matter how hard I tried and believe me, I have been beating myself up about this, I haven't been happy with the dozens of 'first attempts' that have ended up in the bin. Nothing was gelling, everything I tried seemed either too contrived, too wordy, far too confusing or just plain rubbish. I've been getting more and more disheartened and last week I was seriously considering putting all the research away in a locked cupboard so that I could move on from it.
Then last night everything changed.
There I was sitting watching the TV and it came to me, it was like one of those eureka moments, I'd finally realised how to start the novel.
'That's it' I shouted to the dogs who were sprawled across the settees.
'I'm going to have Max's grandson investigate his grandfather a la 'Who Do They Think They Are'.
It will still be Max's story but now with the twist that it is through Dom's investigations that the story will unfold.
I feel as if a weight has been lifted and I now feel able to start writing.
And what do the dogs think about it? well not a lot, but they were impressed when I celebrated by putting the kettle on and dishing out the Bonios (those damn biscuits are just too dry without a cuppa!)
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