What the Aytch-Eee-Double Hockey Stick am I doing here? I mean here in the middle of this book? Did I not have a plan when I started this? What has been going on for the last ten chapters, and why-oh-why do I have all these characters off in different places doing different things? For the love of Virginia Woolf, every narrative is supposed to have a central trunk from which all the other stuff branches out – I swear somebody told me that in a class at some point – and all I have here is a thorn bush!
Hey, a squirrel out the window. Look at him go… Continue reading “A Pantser’s morning monologue upon sitting down to write.”

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