I’ve reached a slump in my editing process and so have been distracting myself (*cough* procrastinating *cough*) by assembling the final chapters of the first draft of A Tale of Moscow Mysteries (OMM). It has been reminding me just how much I love the 16-yr-old protagonist: Agnetha King.
Work-in-progress fun facts
“I’m surprised I didn’t spot it beforehand. Look at me, I’m falling prey to that disease which grips most detectives at some point. I’m becoming thick.”
1. In my original OMM character list, written as I travelled across Costa Rica in the summer of 2011, Agnetha is described simply by ‘likes puzzles, hates cheese’. I knew her so much back then that I felt no need to give her any more information!
2. Of course, Agnetha is a recurring character. But she’s not the only one (luckily). Supporting character, Caroline, once an ambiguous on-off antagonist, is the one to call Agnetha back into action.
Too, Alicia makes a reappearance, if only for the last two chapters and the epilogue.
3. I thought I might end up with 20 chapters, the identical number to the first book – albeit with double the amount of words in each chapter – but, alas, the final pieces cause a surplus of one or two more chapters.
4. Favourite character? I was compiling a list of my favourite self-created characters and, unsurprisingly, Agnetha came in second for the ladies. However, I can’t allow her to top this list.
Favourite supporting character? I’ve been spending a lot of time with Richard Thomason in these last chapters as he becomes crucial to Agnetha’s sense of the mysteries. Although I thought him unassuming at first, his revelations have shown me a softer side to his character that I love.
Agnetha and Richard break into Tretyakov Gallery. Black and white concept drawing:
“Miss King…we have priority to walk through the tourists. Unharmed. There’s no use hiding when they’re going to be coming and going for a while. Besides, you’ve no reason to hide.”
But in that instant, as I prepared to step out into the group, chance thrust me one reason.
With a substantially loud gasp, I retreated into the hiding space. The Inspector shot me his glare again, peeking out through the door to assess the situation I had just seen. His eyebrows, in true fashion, rose higher.
“Miss King,” he said, staring at me from his tall post, “am I to believe that your mother doesn’t know that you are here?” For it was she who had just wandered in via another tourist group, eager to see the Hall and clear her head. “How old are you, might I ask?”
“I’m old enough to be here on my own without permission,” I growled, closing my eyes as I turned my face away and waited for the reprimands to come.
In the silence that followed, Inspector Simnova clutched my shoulders and turned my body to face him. I opened my eyes. There followed an impressed look from the detective.