ANYway, quite early in the book, I found myself writing these sentences:
Before lunch, a message came for Matt to go back to the hostel. He didn’t come back to the raspberry fields.
Matilda never saw Matt alive again.What?? The gorgeous guy just vanishes? The one who was going to save Matilda? Just like that? What, as in dead?????? Nooooo! But he was gorgeous! Where's he gone? Why? Who did it? Is he dead? But I knew he was. But how and why and who and what would be the results? I had no idea.
Of course, I could have deleted it. But I didn't want to. It had been given to me. It sounded exciting. Twisty. Dark. Right.
So I went with it and followed the story and discovered what happened to gorgeous, doomed Matt. And why. And what it did to Matilda. I discovered that it had a part to play in the bursting, roasting strawberries and the ripening tomatoes and the deadly, rare, gorgeous passionflowers. He had to die.
Has this abolition of control happened to you? And isn't it a scary wonderful feeling when it does? I'll get that back, I hope.