There are very few feelings as good as this. It started out as a bunch of ideas, then scribblings in notebooks, now it's typed up into a structure and it's down on the page.
Now if I work really hard and with unceasing effort, it might one day become a story.
To celebrate this exciting stage, here is a short poem I wrote:
Sometimes don't you wish you had an udder?
Or that, like the worm, you could make silk?
I guess if it's a choice of one or other
I'd rather poo pashminas than be milked.