A passing motor yacht, Dacozy Resort beach, Moalboal, Philippines

Since Friday. It has been a journey. I have written more than 16,000 words in three days. 66,900 words for the first draft. The last coming out in a cleansing burst. As my heroes suffered, I was balling my eyes out. I expected writing a novel to be a journey. I was concerned mostly about maintaining my concentration to keep the narrative going. I never thought of the emotional ride. If I have conveyed even part of what I’ve gone through – the laughter, the wonder, the excitement, and the sorrow –then it’ll be a wonderful experience (I hope) for anyone reading. Saturday, I actually wrote little. You see, I invented a character. Well, she introduced herself, one morning, making breakfast for another. She was so charming, engaging and larger than life – a delight – that I just let her go. Turns out she’s a poet. The greatest poet of her people. Now that presents an author with a bit of a problem. You see, if you then have a major ceremony taking place only a few pages later, and you have a character who is a great poet – people will expect a poem. I thought about changing her. Her husband, who understandably adores her, balked. Long I begged him to reconsider. I’d write him a lovely new wife. He refused. So I had to write a poem. This is much, much harder than writing a novel. If one is writing wild fantasy, then you invent some silly language and have your poetry and lyrics in the that tongue. Even shopping lists sounds perfectly delightful in High Elven, or whatever it is they speak. If they speak English, however, than this is a bit of a flounder. I can only hope I lived up to her high expectations. I have ten days left of my vacation. The editing begins now.