Thanks to The Rolling Stones for the blog title. I’ll put the album in at the end: Beggars Banquet.

Yesterday I felt the need to write. So that was good. Happening a lot these days. I’m expecting that I’ll be writing again later today.
[Foxtrot Mike Lima] is coming along. There were three false chapter one’s. I think I have the correct chapter one now. Maybe. Nothing is set in stone until it is. So, we’ll keep it fluid for now.
I’ve written a lot more than I thought and it turns out the hardest scenes to write at the moment at the ones with multiple people at an event. That’s unfortunate because I need to write three such events. The last one I think will be fun to write because it involves Crockett and I can’t wait to see him in the get-up he needs to wear for that big event. I’ve had glimpses and it amuses me.
At the moment I’m just trying to keep it all straight in my mind while I write.
I decided to backwards outline (well after the fact) the chapters the other day. And I’ve already changed the start point so that no longer works. Something about this story is defying my notebook method of tracking. I guess I’ll find out why eventually.

It’s time to break out the post-it notes and set up a murder board on my bedroom wall.
That doesn’t mean there are murders. (There are but it doesn’t necessarily mean that.) It’s a just a way of dragging the timeline into submission. A fun way. Now, how many post-it notes do I have? And do I still have the big ones? Probably not. Unless they’re in a box in the shed. Do I want to go in there searching? No, I do not.
I might have to go to town and get some post-it notes.
In many colours.
This story is twisty, bendy, and complex. Thanks brain for playing the game!

Wanna wee looksie?

RAW WORDS:

[Foxtrot Mike Lima]
Chapter (it’s a secret):
[Ronnie: Cinderella]

“Zip please,” I asked, turning my back to Ben. I felt his fingers grasp the zip pull and slid the zip closed. The red dress fitted like a glove. I turned slowly in front of the mirror. “What do you think?” He whistled. “Very nice, babe.” 
I handed him the matching tie and pocket square from dressing table. “Matchy matchy.”
“For you, always,” he replied.
Right answer. Tonight was going to be fun. As long as nothing bad happened. Ben wrapped his arms around my waist from behind and kissed the side of my neck. 
“It’s a very nice dress,” he whispered.
I turned in his arms and looked into his pale blue eyes. “We ready to go dancing and romancing? The perfect couple on show?”
Ben grinned, his eyes lit from within. “Always.” He took my hand and twirled me. “The car is waiting.”
I picked up our masks from the dressing table and handed him his. Mine secured with hair clips into the sides of my hair do. Donald is clever. He’d swept my long hair up into a creation held in place by clips and hairspray. Pretty sure I was flammable. I attached my mask, adjusted it slightly across the bridge of my nose, picked up my fur coat from the bed and declared myself ready to go.