The Wind Cries Mary

There’s something about staring out at a quiet country evening with the wind rustling the trees, only the occasional noise of traffic from the nearby road, and the sound of Jimi Hendrix on the stereo playing one of his calmer, less galaxy-expanding tracks. This is, to be honest, starting to feel like the kind of thing I need to do more of.

Dad, Linda and Tom began their journey at 5.30am this morning- I woke up to find an extra note about a plant they’d forgotten to remind me to water, plus a little “Good Luck” note on the desk where I’ve set up to work. I am, at the moment, writing at a beautiful antique writing desk, surrounded by fantastic paraphenalia like a three volume edition of “A History of England” by Adolphus, a lever-operated calculator, and plenty of papers crammed in nooks and crannies. I managed to make a little progress today, although waking up feeling like someone had reversed over me in a truck didn’t really help. Since I had managed to forget to leave George the card to my P.O. Box (without which she can’t check my post while I’m gone), I already had to leave the house at some point, so today was mainly a preperation and acclimatisation day, where I unpacked food, familiarised myself with the alarm system, and slightly freaked myself out when I couldn’t open the plush locked postbox that Dad uses, before I realised that I was actually using the wrong key. I fed the fish for the first time on my own (one of my daily duties), and I also cooked myself up a two-serving stir-fry, which means that combined with the meal that Linda left for me yesterday, I’m now sorted for at least the next couple of days, and probably longer.

I solved one small problem concerning a subplot in the novel today, figuring out a way of making it actually relevant and in some way linking up with the main theme. I occasionally feel incredibly talentless and confused in the way that I’m doing this, and I don’t like it when there’s a gap in the story- I know something fits there, I just don’t know what it is, and I end up worrying that whatever I come up with isn’t going to be good enough. So, instead of fixating and doing bits and bobs for the next few days, I am throwing myself into it. There’s twenty chapters (and a prologue), so for the next twenty days I have a plan. I’m heavily rewriting and plugging the gaps in a chapter a day, and I am going to try and make sure that I’ve got something that actually resembles a complete novel by the end of this. It might not be any good, but by golly, it’s going to be complete…

I watched the first half of THE RIGHT STUFF tonight, and had to stop myself from just watching the rest, as I’d forgotten exactly how good that film is, as well as what a wonderfully intelligent piece of work it manages to be. Plus, it has Sam Shepherd being the absolute 100% epitome of effortless American cool as Chuck Yeager. 2nd half tomorrow, as long as I can keep my head together and write all day.

Hopefully, I’m going to sleep better tonight. I miss George. It feels weird being here without her, particularly in the bed, which is one of the most comfortable that either of us have ever slept in.

Let’s see what Day Two has to offer…

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