The End. And then...

So, Susie finished writing her novel, or at least the draft of it she was doing, and she sent it off to her agent. And then she wandered around being a bit vague and slept a lot and ate chocolate and slept more and thought about all the things she could maybe do now with her free time, and after a while, instead of being cheerful about that, she started to get a bit moody and mopey and I asked her what was the matter and she said 'what if it was awful and all wrong and not funny and nobody likes it?'

And I couldn't think of anything to say that would be the right thing.

It's hard being friends with a writer. They're always on the way up a hill or on the way down a hill and never just standing still on a nice rock looking at the scenery.