I updated my profile tonight.
It’s cold. Steve’s in the hallway scraping wallpaper. I’m closed up in the study because the sound of ripping paper was driving me nuts.
I’ve been trying to write the first few sentences of a story that’s been going round and round in my head for at least a year. It keeps growing and developing, which I suppose is a good thing. But as it develops depth and momentum, it’s harder and harder to get purchase on its entry point.
I have something now but already things are different to the idea. Suddenly it’s summertime in the story, when all along it was meant to be winter.