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.


About richlakin

I write about things that interest me
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