So there you are – you are having a weekend away, which has been booked for months and which you have been looking forward to for months…
…so before you go, you finish writing Chapter 4 of Plotting for Grownups, and email it to your co-writer, and really can’t wait to hear what she thinks of it because you have had such a wild time writing it.
So you get in the car and go to stay with your friend in Ilkley and have a really great time putting the world to rights, and on Saturday morning, you set off to drive up Wharfedale to Wensleydale, and after a week of heavy rain, the roads are awash, so you swoosh through puddles that take up half of the road, and eventually stop, because a BMW has pulled up in front of you. Is he going to go on? No. Why? Because the road has disappeared under water for the next twenty yards, and BMWs apparently don’t like water. He turns round and retreats, while you ring your husband and report the conditions and ask for advice and he says – Go for it – don’t stop and don’t take your foot off the accelerator. And test your brakes afterwards. You drive your Polo onwards. It is fine. Yay!
You meet up with your sister at the B&B in Wensleydale, and it’s lovely to see her, and all the time in the back of your mind you’re thinking – Ooh, Ooh, I wonder what Jane thinks of Chapter 4 - and your sister has brought her laptop, so you check your email and Jane has loved Chapter 4, but has also sent a load of suggestions. You reply to her email, and you have a lovely weekend, walking and talking and visiting your brother, and viewing a fabulous exhibition of Judith Bromley paintings at the Hawes museum, and walking to Aysgarth Falls, which are running a full pot because of the rain…
and all the time in the back of your mind you’re mulling over Chapter 4 and wanting to get back home again so you can adjust it and make it perfect.
But when you get home you have to spend a day editing the new edition of your Quaker meeting newsletter.
So the next day, you work on Chapter 4. Phew.
P.S. I have just read of the death of Nora Ephron. This is a sad loss, of course for her family, but also for the millions of people who got so much enjoyment from her films and her books.
As the New York Times said: “all her articles were characterized by humour and honesty, written in a clear, direct, understated style marked by an impeccable sense of when to deploy the punchline.”
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