new novel

Progress on the new novel Walking for the Broken-Hearted is following my habitual and irritating pattern. Something triggers the first thought - in this case an incident related to me by friends - and I know by writer's instinct that conception has taken place. I try and fail to get things written down. The experience is still theirs and I have a long wait for the germination process that brings it into my consciousness and makes it mine. Usually this means several months of nothing at all or the odd desperate thought that leads nowhere. Even co-incidental visits to the setting of the opening scene made no impression, and I started to wonder if maybe I was wrong this time. But yesterday, whilst walking on the moors and thinking about something completely different, I suddenly got the measure of the story, the characters and several clear sequences. And on return to the house I managed to write for half an hour - so alea iacta est and all that.