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- May 8, 2007
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I have struggled with wether to make this womens fiction or keep it to the genre it is intended, non fiction, true-life. Could anyone have a gander and see if this reads ok. I am having trouble with past and present tenses but cant see the wood for the trees at this time. Help!!
Prologue
I awake from my supposedly restful drowse agitated and a little out of sorts. I tug at the covers that are stuck fast wrapped around the sleeping mass that is snoring beside me. My husband has cocooned himself with the duvet at some point during the night because he hates being cold, so I give him a prod and the covers another yank. ‘Selfish sod.’ Annoyed I roll over and touch my lower back wincing from the immediate pain. 'Bloody bed, definitely need a new one.' Don't get me wrong I love my husband I completely adore the man and I am very happily married. He is the most attentive, devoted human being I could wish to be with, an impatient so and so all the same like many of the male species, but is a vastly different character from that of my ex husband. He is a bully. So with a sigh and unable to get comfortable I decide to get up, kicking my feet over the edge of the bed. I sit for a moment as the recurring dream that has caused me to wake, other than my husband’s snoring, plays repeatedly on my mind. The image is so clear it seems it happened only yesterday. I am driving in my car, it is a beautiful summer afternoon and the sun has been hot for days. Folk don their sunglasses and lower shades in their cars; bare-armed overweight women fan themselves with newspapers or magazines, irritable with the heat. Children holding ice cream they lick eagerly drops onto their newly washed t-shirt, they gaze up at their mothers who glare back at them disapprovingly. My palms are sweaty as I grip the steering wheel, my young daughter gurgles happily, fastened into her seat behind me. I am fizzing with excitement yet apprehensive with nerves. Excited, hoping I may bring about a change concerning my husband not seeing his child, nervous because I will stand face to face with his ex wife and try to have a calm and civil conversation regarding her daughter and I just don’t do confrontation.
Prologue
I awake from my supposedly restful drowse agitated and a little out of sorts. I tug at the covers that are stuck fast wrapped around the sleeping mass that is snoring beside me. My husband has cocooned himself with the duvet at some point during the night because he hates being cold, so I give him a prod and the covers another yank. ‘Selfish sod.’ Annoyed I roll over and touch my lower back wincing from the immediate pain. 'Bloody bed, definitely need a new one.' Don't get me wrong I love my husband I completely adore the man and I am very happily married. He is the most attentive, devoted human being I could wish to be with, an impatient so and so all the same like many of the male species, but is a vastly different character from that of my ex husband. He is a bully. So with a sigh and unable to get comfortable I decide to get up, kicking my feet over the edge of the bed. I sit for a moment as the recurring dream that has caused me to wake, other than my husband’s snoring, plays repeatedly on my mind. The image is so clear it seems it happened only yesterday. I am driving in my car, it is a beautiful summer afternoon and the sun has been hot for days. Folk don their sunglasses and lower shades in their cars; bare-armed overweight women fan themselves with newspapers or magazines, irritable with the heat. Children holding ice cream they lick eagerly drops onto their newly washed t-shirt, they gaze up at their mothers who glare back at them disapprovingly. My palms are sweaty as I grip the steering wheel, my young daughter gurgles happily, fastened into her seat behind me. I am fizzing with excitement yet apprehensive with nerves. Excited, hoping I may bring about a change concerning my husband not seeing his child, nervous because I will stand face to face with his ex wife and try to have a calm and civil conversation regarding her daughter and I just don’t do confrontation.