The writing has begun again. It stopped at eighty thousand words and chapter ten of twenty-six planned. Given that the earlier chapters were longer in order to set out the background, I might be aiming at two hundred thousand words. Is that a excessive for a novel? I don't know.
I've set myself the target of writing a thousand words a day. One hundred and twenty days to finish this novel. Fewer if I am more productive or my work less wordy. Six months at five days a week. I've kept up that rate of progress for a week.
It has been fun too: a new virtual adventure. It is exciting deciding what my characters will say and do. The work restarted, they have regained lives of their own. They speak to me, and I try to imagine how they might feel.
I have realised that this novel must not tie up all of the loose ends. Leave something to pick up if I feel like writing another. Let that door remain ajar.
I cannot remember the name of the young lady who took part in a Carpathian mountain riding adventure in July 2007. (The dog, Mina, lives at my new home with D and I. The pony, Pusa, is in Hungary.)
Now, after years spent assembling adventures for others, I am creating one for myself. A literary adventure. From the warmth and light of my study, adventure is flowing. Truly I am enjoying myself.
It's a fascinating exercise to write in the first person. I can write a character who reflects me, but isn't me. I can write as an older person, or younger, or of the opposite gender. Braver, too, and agile so as to spring aboard a horse effortlessly.