DAY FIFTY SEVEN
I can almost see them. I can certainly feel them.
Standing at their positions, waiting for their cue. Primed ready for action, anxious to be getting on with it.
They're talking amongst themselves, shuffling their feet and smoking cheap cigarettes. They are nervous and impatient despite the feeling that once it all kicks off, things are not going to go well for them. They are still keen to start. Whatever mayhem and destruction awaits them, it must be better than this, standing around, waiting. Or so they think.
They are the characters in my head, waiting for me to start my novel, waiting to explode into life and get things under way. They are impatient and are ready to kick my head in if I don't get on with it.
But, the research must continue . . .