Perhaps you’ve noticed I haven’t been hanging around the Edge the last couple weeks. I am in the home stretch of a manuscript and a deadline. The manuscript is almost done and the deadline is almost here. I’ve eighteen thousand words to go and the end of the month to capture them with my butterfly net.
This novel, which has my protagonist on the loverly streets of Florence, Italy, has been a bugger to write. Not because Florence isn’t grand, ’cause she is. But my historical thread this go-around is the Italian Renaissance (wow and more wow) but also the Medici family (gasp and more gasp).
They are a tough family to write about, those Medicis. They loved the arts, supported the arts, gave us the genius of Michelangelo, Raphael, Da Vinci, Brunelleschi. The jaw-dropping masterpieces that assault the senses all over Florence are there because the Medicis paid for them or comissioned them.
But they weren’t the kind of people to write home about. It’s crazy that they adored beauty and lived lives of ugliness. Not all of them, but most. I’ve come across a couple here and there who didn’t rock heaven with their choices. . .
Hence, my dilemma.
Dilemma in a novel is GOOD.
Dilemma equals conflict. Conflict equals tension. Tension equals emotional investment. Emotional investment equals great story.
Back to the salt mines I go…