I’m lucky enough to have a writing partner. He’s pretty good at what he does; he keeps my feet warm, doesn’t answer back and sits there with his head to one side listening to me argue with myself about plot points.
It seems that I often bore him though. That’s when he will lie down and go to sleep in the narrow slither of sun that filters through the window.
Of course there are times like this morning, when there was a rabbit and a chook just within reach, when he is awake and alert and thinking, “If that damned window wasn’t in the way…” His barking and growling give me fodder for my stories.
In all the time I’ve been writing though, he’s never once tried to write the story for me — so this morning when I came into the office and found him sitting on my chair peering at the manuscript for Purple Roads, I could do nothing but laugh.