Found in my electronic chapbook.

There was once a school of thought in the theater that maintained that scenery should be as detailed as possible, even down to details which could never possibly be apparent to the audience. If there was a desk on stage, for example, there ought to be papers and pencils and such in the drawers, even if those drawers were destined to remain shut throughout the performance. I don’t suppose there are many set designers nowadays who devote much time to filling up unopened desk drawers, but I think the principle is a sound one. I know it works at the typewriter, and at root the reason is as basic a one as you can get. Fiction, let us never forget, cannot work properly without the reader’s voluntary suspension of disbelief. He knows it’s just a story but he elects to discard that knowledge. While he reads it, he chooses to believe in it. But first is it not essential that the writer suspend his own disbelief? p. 214

From Telling Lies for Fun and Profit: A Manual for Fiction Writers by Lawrence Block.

I wrote 1,395 words yesterday morning and my total word count is now 45063.

Previously…