I’m still working on Smarmbeard, so until then, here’s a short extract from a novel I’ve been struggling with.
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It was a common enough problem: Sarah had no motivation to get out of bed. Warm and cozy in her eiderdown cocoon, in her world of lemon-scented fabric detergent and flannel sheeting, her body felt weightless; her arms, legs and head were bits of heavy-packing foam, like the stuff she’d once seen at that decrepit self-storage unit years previously.
She and Zoe had been moving house at the time. Continue reading