On writing.
Spent sixty-nine minutes today drilling the keyboard, an activity otherwise known as 'writing'. I refer to it as 'drilling the keyboard' because for a large period of it I was typing frantically in an effort to see where the story was going, and the noise made it sound like I was braking the keys with a hammer.
Why was I so eager to find out where the story was going? I had three girls, one of them blind, stuck in the hold of an aeroplane (destination unknown) full of enemies, trying to work out why one end of the hold was equipped with cages, and also trying to find a way off because if they were aboard when the plane landed they were, quite literally, dead. Eventually they jumped out in mid-air while being shot at and turned into birds on the way down, subsequently discovering that the country they were flying over was Africa.
Next time I can access the document, I intend to make them have a dangerous run-in with hippopotomuses. Hippopotomi. Whatever.