A phase of writing I hate: I’m about to start a long story, novel size. And right now, it’s all like puzzles dumped on one pile - and someone left cake crumbs all over it.
A cat might have hidden something in there, too.
The ideas are there.
The timeline is blurry.
And I’m sitting with my laptop, stories and scenes flowing out without consulting with me and altogether it makes no bloody sense, yet.
Dear characters. Come here, clean your mess.















