Chapter Seventeen

I am in the middle of writing the seventeenth chapter of my novel; I know there are eighteen chapters, so I’m getting near the end of the first draft. It seems as though before I wrote a first draft there was nothing, while what I have now is a big wodge of red claythat could be shaped into almost anything. That’s not quite true: the protagonists are beginning to display their own obsessions and let slip their secrets.A picture of clouds and airplane trails

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