Clunbury the truth.
What happens when you decide to write a novel in thirty days?
They come and dig the road up outside your house. But it's okay, after a while you get used to the noise of the digger. Bless them.
Anyway I had a day off yesterday. I don't think that was a terribly good idea. This morning, I've found it difficult to get back into my story but I'll do it. I've had several cups of coffee and have walked around the house asking what happens next. I really should do the ironing but that can wait. I'm going to press on and hopefully the good folk of my village will tell me. Fingers crossed.
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