My WIP is a load of old bollocks today. Yesterday it was ok. There's no telling how it will be tomorrow. Such is the rollercoaster of writing.
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Is she just…deciding who’s a woman now? Who put her in charge of that? She needs a hobby or something.
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I just offered my postie a cold drink (despite her bringing no books today!) and she drained a big glass of water in one go and looked so grateful. It must be punishing working outside in this heat.
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