After that last sentence in my previous entry, it seems that the pub really might a tad more conducive to scribbling. Over a pleasant 3 pints, 6 pages of notes were hammered out and the emotional core of the story is being laid bare.
Not that I'll be working in the pub regularly (that necessitates money, of which I have absolutely none, and a liver to rival Keith Richards, however many he's gone through), but a little restraint and a measured pint can do wonders sometimes.
I'm now getting excited by the story and the characters. Properly excited, as in seeing this as a film now in my head as opposed to an idea. A couple of scenes took very good shape this evening. And all of this before I'm outlining. But, as with the booze, restraint with some of the ideas - this can still become a different animal.