...sorry couldn't resist. Anyhow, here's a teeny-tiny excerpt in which I mock dear, dead Jane Austen. May she crawl from her grave and throw a few witty lines at me along with her rotting fingers and toes.
Besides, except in old books about silly girls in ridiculous dresses, no one died from a soaking.
I swear my character made me do it. She has been reprimanded. I've been checking out my Flesch-Kincaid Grade level, trying to make sure I don't go over a twelve and found a 21.3 grade for one sentence. Does that mean only Harvard / Cambridge graduates can read it? Maybe that's why so often I make no sense at all - I write sentences for geniuses. Ignore me, I'm on an I wrote 14,000 words in a week high.