The novel has shifted to a different dynamic with the end of chapter two and chapter three. Helen, Ben, and Hanna Katla are no longer alone in the wilds of Iceland with the threats and dangers that faces. They are back home, they are in the city. It’s an interesting change, it contrasts with the magick and mysterism of trolls and elvs, and reminds us that this is a human story set in the real world. It does possibly explain why I’m finding it a challenge to write – why the beginning to this chapter is coming so slowly.

It’s almost like its a new story.

Current wordcount: 37,573

Ain’t it weird. Suddenly in the space of half an hour I’ve written twice as much as it’s taken me the whole night to write. Have I found my voice for Northern Capital?

Lights swirl, music pumps, the air feels sticky and putrid. A man moves, weaving between the people. With his fingers twined round several bottles of beers he ducks across the room, and skirts down the backstairs. Turning sideways to a door he pushes it open and enters in.

Within, to the strumming notes of her guitar, Hanna Katla sings her words. She looks up, through big, wide, open eyes as Halldór hands round the bottles. The song is cut as she reaches out for her bottle.

“Skull,” she grins and together she, and Halldór, and the rest of the band raise their bottles before swigging down the beer.

Current Music: the purr of my cat, the tap of fingers on the keys…