Who else but other writers can tell you, “She’s holding two lattes on page 3 but then she’s handing her a hot chocolate…”
“Can you sop up spilled coffee?”
“You might need another cue so we know she’s entering a parallel universe….”
And who else but that ginger-haired gentleman bakes a tray of blueberry muffins and leaves it on the table then gallops off and leaves you to your writing group?
Sunlight through the trees. It’s 5:00.
The faint faraway peep-peep-peep of a nuthatch.