Draft one sorted

I’ve just finished my first draft of 101,000 words. It’s a novel provisionally titled The Dead Dreams of Housewives, but the housewife closest thinks that’s rubbish. She’s right. There’s plenty of time to think about that when drafts two, three and four take shape. The line is from a brilliant Douglas Dunn poem.

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About richlakin

I'm married with two young boys and living in Staffordshire. If I'm not working you can find me day dreaming or holding high-brow literature in front of my face. Or eating Arctic Roll.
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