Cedar incense and an overdue chapter

Rain mapped the Edinburgh cobbles this morning while a kettle clicked and a scratched Billie Holiday record carried the room; cedar incense curled into the margins. Read a paragraph from the new draft aloud and felt the sentences rearrange themselves like guests who'd been waiting to be invited.

If you've read one of my novels and can point to the single sentence that misbehaved, bring it folded in the margins—there's a pot of strong tea and a candle here. Long correspondence first; consent is grammar, and the rest is punctuation.