Yes, it’s a cliché, of the worst kind.
But, it's where I am with Book 2 of the next Curiosity Club of St Foy book, ‘Emily and Star’.
It’s now over 60K words and the action is ramping up. As are a number of new characters who have thrust themselves into the story and seem to be working towards playing a major part in the outcome. I didn’t know these characters when I set off, but now they are here, well, they just have to make themselves useful.
This is always the most difficult part, deciding when to move pieces on this human chessboard, in and out of the plot.
I often wonder what long distance runners think about when they are well into their run. There must be something going on in their mind – more than just occasionally clocking their time. Do they think about their family, their friends, where’s a toilet stop, what they are going to eat when it’s all over. I think about the latter a lot.
I would like to have this book finished before Christmas, but that’s a lot of running.
If you’ve been reading this blog, then you know that have already written the finale. I can’t see the finish line yet, but I know it’s getting closer. I just have to make sure I keep on the right track, and don’t allow myself to go veering off into somewhere that looks really, really interesting. When you arrive at this place, it never is, but sometimes you just can’t help it. The problem is, you then end up cutting it all out because it led nowhere and you could have spent your time more productively by being disciplined and sticking to the plan.
Anyway, I thought you might like a small, very small taster, just a couple of snippets picked out of Chapter One. Here it is. Next time I write, it might all be done! Or, I might be up a tree or down a muddy track somewhere, trying to find my way back to the main path. Wish me luck.

Chapter One.‘Bette Jones was enjoying her party, or at least, that’s what it looked like to Belle Harrington, who could recognise the difference between real and feigned enjoyment. Bette’s husband, Bert, knowing Bette didn’t like to be surrounded by crowds, had managed to keep the group of well-wishers to under thirty – all of them people that Bette liked, or at least could put up with for a couple of hours. They filled the sizeable farmhouse kitchen with chatter, laughter and congratulations to Bette … The chatter halted at a loud banging on the kitchen door, as all heads turned to see who was turning up late for the party … Bert reached the door and flung it open. The group looked over to see who had arrived. For a second there was anticipatory silence. Then, all hell broke loose.’© M. K. Jones 2022