In the third draft of the book in progress, I ruthlessly cut a hundred pages and made the pages messy but the story neater. Yesterday I printed out a clean fourth draft: so nice to have clean margins and pristine pages. Now I'm going through this draft slowly, seeing if is whole yet.
Meanwhile, the outside is calling, calling:
The dock is out, but the kayak is merely resting, waiting for me.
Back inside, I work for another couple hours and then dare to look out the window: