I sit at the desk looking out at the unfinished garden. Clouds fill the sky and cast a grey shroud over the town. Monday morning in the middle of a British summer rarely encourages a smile.
The computer is on, a blank page waits for my words. The cursor blinks, a thin grey line marking the start of a new idea, a new scene of just one hundred words. What was I thinking when I started this? One hundred scenes! I’m not even a quarter of the way there and already I struggle.
I breathe deeply and start to write.