They’ve all left. Hubby, Mr 14-year-old, and Mr 12-year-old have just driven off for three nights. Three whole nights. Mr 16-year-old is sunning himself in some remarkable national park with family friends in Western Australia (so jealous of him…). And I have the house to myself. For the first time in 16 years. Yep. Ridiculous I know.
I sent them all away so I can plough through my fourth draft; stay close to it and immerse myself.
Now comes the discipline. This is time I really don’t want to waste. So it’s me and my dog and my manuscript. What could go wrong?
(If you see me lurking on social media, give me a slap)