Image: Everest North Face toward Base Camp Tibet Luca Galuzzi , North Face by I, Luca Galuzzi
A short and sweet post today, my friends, because I have finally (finally) hit the very last few thousand words of The Garden of Earthly Delights and I want to try, in the words of the great mountaineer Sir Edmund Hilary, to ‘knock the bastard off’ by the weekend or before my hair turns grey (whichever comes first). This thing has been my Everest; there’s no denying that writing longer pieces is a challenge for me and it has taken me what feels like forever to get to this point.
I’m pleased to say that Nick and Grace’s journey has reached a conclusion and the chapter I am currently writing is entirely devoted to two characters who’ve shouted louder and louder at me as I’ve tapped away at the keyboard. I never intended for them to have a story of their own but it looks like they’re getting one, as is another individual who shall (for now) remain nameless.
I’ve said it before but I’m still not sure how this ‘little serial’ got so out of control; when I started writing it, my goal was a very manageable 20,000 words. I’m now at 60,000, although interestingly the storyline has never wavered from my original plot outline. It’s just become a lot more textured and a lot more detailed.
Perhaps Garden is my Frankenstein?
Oh, for those who are curious (although this thing has been so long in the making I’m sure many of you have lost interest by now!), here’s a tiny little taste of things yet to come …
…………………………..
‘What the hell’s happened?’
Tess fidgeted uncomfortably, glancing after the waitress who had left with their drinks order mere seconds beforehand before looking down and fiddling with the napkin she’d yet to put across her lap. ‘Maybe we should eat before we talk ab–’
Jack leaned across the table and stilled his twin’s busy hand. ‘Look at me,’ he said softly.
Gun-metal grey eyes slowly raised to meet his.
‘No offence, but you look like shit. Something’s going on with you and whatever it is you need to tell me so I can try and help.’
Tess looked away from him, stared in the direction of the bar and the people gathered around it. ‘Reece is back in town,’ she said quietly.
‘WHAT?!’
Despite the hum of the restaurant, the chatter of the other patrons around them, Jack’s voice exploded across the room with a shotgun-like boom, momentarily silencing the tables full of diners immediately next to them and earning him a look of admonishment from the maître d’.
‘Jack, please.’ Tess looked back at him, her eyes pleading. ‘Calm down.’
‘Calm down?’ he hissed. ‘That sick piece of shit nearly puts you in hospital, has the nerve to tell you the whole thing was your fault, and you tell me to calm down?’ With a start, he realised the grip he had on Tess’s hand had turned vice-like; he immediately let go of her arm.
‘When?’ he demanded. ‘When did he come back?’
A long pause. ‘Earlier this month.’
‘Jesus fucking Christ, Tess. And you’re only telling me this now?’ Jack leaned back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.
‘I … I thought that I could handle it on my own.’
He looked up sharply. ‘What’s he done?’
An even longer pause – which told him that whatever it was, he wasn’t going to like it.