My school refusing daughter is upstairs on her computer, having had a screaming tantrum because I asked her to do some schoolowork. It's 1.04. It's time for her dad to bring her to school to collect more work.
The motor and the screaming tantrum are unsettling. They block the creative flow, readers, the discerning, decision making, critical faculty needed to pull a story together. I need that faculty, and I need five hundred odd more words that fit.