Färdig!!

Sedär ja... Ni kanske har noterat att mätaren nu har exploderat? Berättelsen är klar. Stommen är där. Jag har en roman, som faktiskt inte har en enda logisk lucka, och som faktiskt har en genomgående röd tråd, och snygga, logiska konflikter. Hur själva berättelsen sedan fungerar, och karaktärerna med den, är givetvis en annan sak -- och inte för mig att bedöma, heller.

Nu gäller det i alla fall bara att redigera, fila, putsa i all evinnerlighet, tills storyn är perfekt. Det jag gör just nu, är att ta det hela från början, kapitel för kapitel. Jag justerar och snyggar till -- har redan hittat en del scener som jag skrev för länge sedan, och som behöver anpassas till det jag vet om historien just nu. Det går riktigt bra:

-------
Ur Legacy @2007 copyright Linda Govik

She lead them to the still banks along the stream. The water was high and powerful after weeks of what had seemed to be neverending rain, and was swirling wild just beside their feet as they walked the path beside it. Further down the valley, Léan knew, the water would calm down to form a slow, eastern trail of water all the way down to Egham, which was the town closest to Giatelli’s farm. The thought made her cross her arms across her chest, defensively. Egham – that’s where she’d head, if her employment at Mrs Grant was to come to an end, and after this day, Léan was sure Mrs Grant was at least considering it.
Quietly, she sat down on the great, flat stone, pulled her feet up to avoid the frothing water just beside it, and waited for Jacob to sit down as well. The banks were steep here, providing a good and safe blocking of the view from the main house, and still being close enough to it, should anything happen, or should anyone need them. They’d been there several times before. It was where they’d kissed the first time. Even made love the first time – she couldn’t resist a smile at the thought of the short, frantic meeting, sweet and forbidden as it had been. It was a sacred place. And she felt safe there.

Jacob cleared his throat, greenbrown eyes studying her face with concerned interest.

“So... Is there a reason for you dragging me all this way? I’d much preferred the cottage. Now that Martin isn’t there and all.“

Martin, the stableboy, had worked for Giatelli for as long as anyone could remember. He was slow in thought, which had rendered him the public opinion of being stupid and even dangerous. That wasn’t true: he was extremely kind and very hardworking, and Giatelli had been fond of him, seeing to it that he was kept safe on his farm, far away from the harsh reality and cruel comments of the people in the surrounding towns and villages. However, Martin had a sister living with her family closeby, and occasionally, he’d travel there to see her. Since Jacob and he shared accommodation on the farm, Martin’s trips left small isles of solitude for Jacob and Léan to enjoy. This morning, Martin had decided it was time for one of those trips, and had gone shortly after lunch. It was one day too late, Léan thought, bitterly. He should have gone the day before: that way, she’d have stayed with Jacob in the cottage, and Mrs Abraham wouldn’t have noticed her sneaking into the main house at night.

“Aye. I know,” she answered, silently. “It would’ve been warmer.”

The raw chill went straight through her skirt, and was already numbing her buttocks in the most unpleasant way. But the stone was dry, and not too rough – it could be worse.

“So...?” He turned his head some, to look at her. “Why are we here?”

“Because I needed to come here.”

His brows were lowered in a frown. “You needed to?” he echoed. “Anything wrong, Léan?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps there is.”

She kept her eyes on the flowing, rushing water, but knew the short bitter tone of her voice had made him look at her: she could feel the curious glance burn against the side of her face. She made her voice low, thin.

“Are you dangerous, Jacob?”

His legs, resting close to hers, stiffened. She didn’t dare look at him, afraid, that if she did, the look on his face would confirm what she feared: that it was true. But she really didn’t have to look at him to know that – she felt it, through his silence, through the shocked stillness of his body. Holy Madonna. Three months, they’d been together. And she hadn’t known a thing. A chill went through her, made her shiver.

Finally he spoke – but the words were far from reassuring. “What have you heard?”

‘What have you heard’. Not ‘why do you ask’, or ‘what kind of a silly question is that’. Just this ‘what have you heard’. She pulled her shoulders to her ears, feeling small, and vulnerable. And scared. For the first time since they’d met, she really didn’t feel she could trust him. Not with ‘what have you heard’ ringing in her ears.

“Nothing. Enough.”

He sat quiet for a while, thinking. “Mrs Abraham?” he said after a while. “She’s the only one who knows around here.”

‘Around here’. More horrible words. Léan nodded, and heard Jacob sigh heavily beside her.

“Jesus Christ, Léan. How come she’s told you?”

“Does it matter?” She glanced him, struck by a sudden spark of fury. “I’m glad she did, before something happened.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know!” She struck the stone beside her with a flat hand. The smacking sound made them both look down on, and for a brief moment, they stared at her hand, pale and frail against the rough, gray surface. “Tell me, Jacob,” she said, punily. “Please.”

-----------------

Nåja. Efter den här omgången, blir det förmodligen ännu en sådan omgång, och därefter kommer jag förmodligen att hoppa omkring i scener där jag tycker det behövs, tills jag anser att allting är så klart det kan bli. Sedan blir det antagligen en omgång testläsning, och ännu mer genomgång och putsning, och därefter ska synopsis skrivas, och så ska en agent hittas...

Det blir nog bra.

Huvudsaken är, att jag är klar med första utkastet till min andra roman. Woo-hooo!!!