Writing their own stories

After feeling quite tearful last night - not sure exactly what caused it, a combination of things I expect - I am rejuvenated today.

Cleaning the bathroom helped. No, really it did. Apart from the fact that it really needed it, at one point I found myself standing, with a bottle of Jif cleanser in one hand and a scritchy thing for scrubbing in the other, thinking about an interesting diversion my novel could take. All the fumes must have cleared my head.

Feeling pleased with myself I settled down after lunch to write. Writing a sequel is amazing. I know the characters so well they really are beginning to tell me their own stories. One of my secondary characters had a minor crisis that I wasn't expecting but that brings up all sorts of possibilities.

I've since been out for a walk with George (and Husband) and sunshine makes me happy.

George rescued this stone from the river and insisted on carrying it much of the way home.