I wanted this story to be a non-paranormal, spicy, angsty, gripping historical. All well and good. I wanted this to take place pre-American Revolution. Ok, fine. I want this to be longer than 50 pages. Because as it's shaping up now, I can't imagine writing more than 50 pages on the current plot. Or lack thereof.
Here's the problem as I see it in the harsh light of Monday morning: I can't seem to work my head around conflict in pre-Revolutionary America that doesn't involve Indian attacks or the war itself.
There are 100 conflicts out there, emotional and external. There are 1000 ways I can write this stupid freakin' story. There is exactly 0 ZERO ways I can think of to do it.
So in sleeping on it, and having bizarre dreams involving Christmas, I came up with something that might work. The issue was resources. With enough money, there's no conflict. With enough people around you, there's no problem. So take all that away and what do you have? Problems! Issues! Conflict! Angst and heartache and separation and above all, sexual tension. Gotta have that.
So now, despite 8 hours of sleep, some exhaustion and lack of caffeine this morning, and missing some key summer clothes, I HAVE A CONFLICT! It's pathetically exciting, but there you have it.