I love this. It’s so freeing! I just let my imagination and research take me where they will. I’ve got my heroine in a shooting range in Greenfield Park near Montreal.
Here’s a short excerpt from today’s writing.
“I guess so, Mr. McTavish. But I wish you’d empty the ashtrays once in while. The smell is overpowering.”
Again he laughed his loud belly laugh. “I’ll do it for you,” he said, after coughing. “And please call me Mac. All my friends do, and since you’ve told me off, I consider you to be a friend.”
“Okay, Mac,” she said, smiling. The man certainly had a disarming way about him.
They took the Jacques Cartier Bridge, crossing the St. Lawrence River to the South Shore. Expo 67, with the huge dome of the US Pavilion shining in the sun, reminded * of the happy times she’d had there this past summer. I’ll go back before it closes, she promised herself. They were headed for Greenfield Park, where the gun club and shooting range Mac belonged to was located.