plan. something to work towards.
i drop my wife at the tram station, the kids at nursery. then home. kettle on, empty the dishwasher. i eat breakfast in front of the computer. my draft is in front of me, my red pen ready. and i work. cutting, moving sections, drawing lines through massive chunks of work i thought were important. the feedback from last night has convinced me it’s not. how right she was. i see it all with clear eyes on this read through. something begins to take shape in these early hours of the working day. ben no longer seems boring. the early drama of the story has been 