After changing the font twice he underlined the title, made it italic and bold. Then he stared at the cursor blinking, blinking. That’s when he saw greasy fingerprints on the screen. He wiped it clean and liked how it looked, so he polished his writing desk too. And then he got the hoover out and did the whole house, knowing he’d score points with his wife who always complained he never did anything. And once the carpets were hoovered, it was time for his lunch. This was followed, as always, by his afternoon nap. Refreshed, he returned to his desk where the cursor was waiting, still blinking, blinking. Then, and only then, he was ready to start his first draft.
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