It’s funny, after the decorating of today, I had my cold lamb and baked spud dinner and a glass of wine, and collapsed into the armchair and by 8.30 I was thinking I’m ready for bed. But I hoiked the laptop closer to me, and checked my friends page, fired off a few pithy replies, and loaded up my novel. I then sat down to write some more. What was Guðni going to talk to Hannah and Alice about? I put on my Írafár dvd – hey, this is the great thing about workiing my laptop, because I can touch type, I can watch the vid whilst creating the words in my mind and transferring them to the screen – it kind of works – and the words start to come.
I go and make myself a Hot *Vana Tallinn* Chocolate, and the words come even more, I splice in a flashback to Hanna, singing at a gig, it kind of fits with the mood of the piece.
Current wordcount: 32,525
The guitar plays softly to a gentle, soothing percussion beat. She sits on the edge of the stage, in softening lighting, singing the ballad to the intimate gig. Hanna’s voice resonates across the room, through people’s hearts and minds, taking them out across the fjords and over the hillside, into the mountains. She cups her hands around the mic almost breathes out the words. She glances behind her, at the band. They can rock. They can also capture a room like this.
Helen climbs, along the side of a ridge, rounding an outcrop of rock carved into fingers by wind and weather. She stops, beneath her, the roadway is barred by three metre high security fencing, and security guards sat in their truck by the gate. Beyond, heavy machinery grinds and clanks on a construction site.
