I thought I might have trouble sleeping with so many thoughts rattling around in my brain, but that hadn’t happened. The first thing I did upon getting out of bed was to e-mail George Sutherland in London to let him know that he’d be staying with Seth. I wasn’t certain how George would react. While he and Seth got along, people don’t always feel comfortable being a houseguest, particularly when the house belongs to someone you barely know. After a breakfast of fruit, one of Charlene Sassi’s divine raspberry scones, and tea, I showered, dressed, and pledged to spend the morning working on my novel. Having so-called writer’s block at this stage of my career was unacceptable. It’s always been my contention that such “blocks” in the writing process occur only when the writer doesn’t know where to go next in the story. Some ideas came to me over breakfast, and I was confident that I’d be productive that morning. I’d just settled at my computer and was about to input my first sentence of the day when the doorbell rang.
