Writing – Part One

MAY 2017

Waking up in a darkened bedroom, the new shutters we’d installed at the beginning of the week had managed successfully, I might add, to hide all of the summer light from making its way into my room, I sat up, swinging both legs over the side of the mattress, feeling somewhat optimistic as to the day ahead – until I very nearly walked into the cat. What followed was an exchange of swear words, for all of five minutes (mainly from me) directed towards a furry black animal whom I do love dearly and with all my heart, just not when he refuses to budge from his position.
It was a Friday morning, the day after I’d archived a load of files for where I work seven hours – really one day, (if you include the hour for lunch – which I always do, I have a weird obsession with even numbers!) a week, and back in my room after a shower, I was dressed and had my favourite dark red satchel packed with… my writing kit! I was off to make my dream of being a published author come true – well I was on my way to it, I think! Consisting of a slightly battered but still in excellent condition iPad Air, a Hardback moleskin A5 notebook, a pen with a chewed lid (my horrendous habit of chewing my pen top I have unfortunately never seen to grow out of, even since childhood) and my glasses case. 

When I’d opened my shutters I hadn’t expected the sun to beam down and nearly blind me, so I popped my glasses case into my satchel and went downstairs to lock up everywhere, chasing the cat down the stairs and into the kitchen, he walked lazily to where the cat flap was, and that was him leaving for the day, I locked everywhere up. Then had a heart attack as I’d forgotten someone very important. I retrieved a very heavy, coming up to waist height – which for me, isn’t much being only just over 5 feet, white stick. My lovely reliable walking aid. It’s always with me, wherever I go, it’s even more reliable than the furry black animal, so together ‘stick’ as I affectionately refer to it, and I, were on the way down the road to the local Costa Coffee to begin my novel. 

Sitting in a very comfortable armchair at the back of the shop over two tables and stick, with a 7Up poured into a glass of ice and divine chicken and bacon toasted sandwich, the bread covered in cheese, I sip my lemonade, open my notebook to the page with all of my plot breakdowns, fingers to the Scrivener app on my iPad and begin to type the words after I had written a particularly important, quite frankly, vital one. PROLOGUE. 

Only thing is, I’ve got no idea what to write next. 

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