I’m at a significant point in my writing generally: the need for the central character to have normal life and enjoy every day activities. In a psychological thriller, this can be difficult to bring off.
In the following scene, central character Alan has just returned home after spending the night on a mate’s couch following an evening in the pub. The evening itself was intense. Robert = Alan’s son, Mel = Alan’s sister, Samantha = Mel’s friend
I head to mine, gulp down a glass of tepid water from the sink and start the shower. Get in. Change into a fresh set of clothes and splash on some aftershave before going down to join Mel and Robert on the second floor. The interior of Samantha’s flat is different to mine or Mel’s: bean bags rather than chairs, knickknacks and ornaments on the shelves, glass coffee table with thick magenta candle stubs, paperbacks scattered on the floor, along with assorted shoes and trainers. Robert, I note, seems particularly sulky today, and hardly responds to anything I have to say, although he relates easily to Samantha. The four of us spend the morning making organic bread in the tiny kitchen area, Samantha chatting away barely, pausing for breath.