Last Sunday I wandered around downtown Plymouth, visiting shops filled with sparkly things, retro sunglasses, antique dresses and cameo rings. In a tea & curiosity shop I spoke to a local film-maker about the movie he was shooting (I find writers/creators wherever I go, it seems). Sadly I am not much of an actress and had to decline the role he offered.
A note in history: the Titanic sank in the early hours of April 15, 1912, after having been hit by an iceberg before midnight of the 14th. So many people have been inspired by the ruins, the lives lost, the stories drowned on that ship. It’s amazing the pull of lost things on all of us.
Other news? I’m reading some good books on writing, prepping for upcoming conference presentations. But I’m feeling twitchy and can’t seem to focus on anything in novel form. It’s a sign: I’ve got to get back to my draft, to see what I’ve got, see what needs to be done. Be brutal and cut cut cut. This weekend I plan to reread and outline and go over my notes and come up with a plan. It all sounds a little exhausting but I’m eager to get started.