And to think that it all started with a picture of Pierre-August Renoir's 1883 Dance at Bougival. Looking back, I still can't believe it. At 39 I knew I wanted ... needed to write at least one of the novels floating around in my head. It had been a lifelong dream. The only thing I didn't know was which one. And so the journey began.
Absolutely positive that if I could find the perfect novel setting the rest of the story would fall into place, I searched and searched the universe and eventually it came back with a resounding, "Booooooston." And it sounded just like that, too. "Booooooooston." So I googled the Massachusetts Office of Travel and Tourism and they kindly sent me a wonderful packet of information. The day it arrived on my doorstep I eagerly tore it open, tilted it sideways, and poured out its contents. Yep. You guessed it: out popped a pamphlet from Boston's Museum of Fine Art featuring ...
Pierre-Auguste Renoir's Dance at Bougival.
And the rest, my friends, is well ... the rest of the story. But that's an entirely different blog.