There I was, sitting in the pew. Bored. The priest is more of the accountant type, not a dynamic speaker at all.
Mention was made of the late Pope's beatification and I couldn't help but think it was all political posturing by the entrenched hierarchy still reeling from the clerical abuse scandal.
So my mind wasn't on the matters at hand. And then it hit me.
I'd been struggling with the opening chapter of a new manuscript. It's always a challenge when writing historical fiction to bring in a little backstory, to set the scene and time, but too much backstory is deadly and I don't want my novel Dead On Arrival.
The character moved through the scene, used a prop to convey a thought when I'd written out a long paragraph. A few other sentences revised themselves, to cloud up issues and induce the reader to turn the page.
What was the priest talking about? No idea. But my manuscript is moving forward again, by the grace of God.
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