Been on the road again these last few days, which is why I haven't posted in a while. I'll be in London for a few more days, chasing after the perfect narrative line, then on to Berlin to perfect another one.
Things are going well. I'm actually enjoying London this time, for the first time. This time, I know what I'm looking for. I've been going to different sites from my London character's formative years, putting together the pictures I'll need for my most distant scenes. Last night, I spent the evening at his mother's house, watching old family videos. Also a first - this time I didn't feel like an intruder on someone else's intimacy. I wonder what has changed, why I don't feel so tentative asking to be let in further? Is it because I am more confident that I am capable of writing this story? Because I know exactly what scenes I'm putting in the book?
Suddenly, I am no longer overwhelmed by the bigness of this book. I know what my themes and motifs are, I know my characters and the defining moments of their lives, I know so much more policy and history than I did two years ago. What a sensation. What a relief. I can't wait to finish this book.