It is time to celebrate again (wonderful how celebrations come on each others’ heels, isn’t it!). This lovely Blog Hop is the idea of Vikki at VikLit. The hop is still open if you want to join, and there are lovely people involved in posting, remembering, celebrating and being just generally awesome – rather like yourself, don’t you think?
The information on the hop is below. Why don’t you join? Or, at least, visit the various posts and smile.
Today I am celebrating the fact that the weekend is coming, thatI may actually get some writing done, and I can sleep in tomorrow.
I am at that frustrating and yet delicious stage in a manuscript where I am, as I say, ‘filling in holes’ and also polishing.
The story is set, the plot twists, which seem to come of their own accord, are in place, and I can start pruning my notes to myself, which I have in situ to remind me where things are going and items I need to remember, such as the fact that the character in the scene met the deceased during a riot where she found him injured and nursed him back to health.
Now I’m adjusting the flow, muttering to myself, and wondering if my editor will mind if I send him a ‘rough-finished draft’ and deciding that since I’m paying him (and her and her), they shouldn’t.
My story is set in Paris, and remembering the time I spent there is something to celebrate. I went during a time of uncertainty, where my job was going away and I didn’t have another lined up. But it was research for this story that I am finishing (part of a trilogy) and I decided that I was, for once, going to go with my heart.
It was a wonderful trip. I went alone, took scads of photos, walked all over the place, had an encounter with Michael the Archangel (hint: he’s the patron saint of Police officers – I’ll post about the experience this weekend), and among other things encountered two beautiful roses in the flower market near Notre Dame.
I went there most mornings, and brought back flowers for my hotel room. These were the loveliest:
|A New Rose (for me)|
I had never seen a peach rose. The edges of the petals were lacy, and there was such a sweet, rich scent, too. It perfumed my hotel room for days.
I had never seen a rose like this one. Deep, velvety red on the inner part of each petal, almost pure white outside. And unlike most roses of this shape, it, too, had a wonderful scent. I did not see another like it for years.
|We’ll always have Notre Dame…|
Going there by myself, doing my research, staring in awe at the inside of La Sainte Chappelle, strolling through les Jardins des Tuileries, biting off a swear word as the hotel’s toaster hurled my toast through the air and onto the floor – all were the foundations of a wonderful trove of memories that I can savor as I write about Paris in my WIP that will (God willing!) come out in December.
It’s all worth celebrating.
So what are you celebrating? (I’m looking forward to reading everyone else’s this evening…)