There, he's got the cup, won the match, worn his
Thunderbirds-are-go jacket and it's all over for
Good thing, too, as we've had horrendous rain today. I am, at last, back to work and wondering why it is I only have INSIGHTS into plot development once I've written the damned chapter. I romp on to chapter Eleven and in the middle of the night realise I should have had Mary turn up at the dance in Chapter Seven and flirt with Holbrook. She is conspicuous only by her absence.
So back I go and insert all the relevant bits, and wonder what I'm going to think about chapter eight, nine and ten once I've reached fifteen, sixteen and seventeen.
I think I'll go for a walk and ponder before I go any further.
There's lots to ponder. Why, for example, the media currently rules the world. Why people seem to go into national hysteria mode when a famous person dies these days. Or perhaps they don't, perhaps I only think they do because the media tells me they do. Was it like this for Valentino? Lennon? Or do the subjects have to be realtively young and goodlooking? I noticed no hoo-ha for Sinatra, but maybe I was looking the other way.
24 hour news on hundreds of channels requires 24 hour stories to tell and there are so many journalists trying to make the grade out there...am I a cynic for thinking that sometimes they well, tweak a story to make it interesting? On the one hand I hope I am; on the other, I'm sure I'm not. I am divided, and let me tell you, it is uncomfortable!