The other day I was here writing about endings. Then, the very next day, I was off-project thanks to a beginning. The irony is amusing, if not epic.
I was supposed to be working on the new (Roman) novel. But while in the shower I had realized how the final book of the Mercutio series begins. I thought I knew before, but I was dead wrong. So I towelled off and sat down, in the space of two hours churning out 3,000 words. The prologue of the final novel is writ.
Now I just have to finish the intervening nine books and we’ll be all set.
Sigh. Back to Roma.
