The writer hammered the story on his laptop. The damn plot wasn't working. His main character, Lady Whatever (name not yet settled), had just hidden the corpse of her husband under her bed. The writer tried to convince the character that that was a bad idea. Lady Whatever gave him the finger and continued with her merry life. He grinned. That character had to go. Lady Whatever, who was pretty smart, hid under her bed. The stench was so bad, that the writer gave up. Let her be, he thought. And the story was a success, believe it or not.