I flop the butter in the pan and wait for it to melt. I slide a half-slice of bread around and lay a slice of cheese and another half of buttered bread on top. I let it sizzle until both sides are golden brown. I turn off the heat and pick up the pan. I rotate my wrist and the sandwich clinks onto the little plate. I carve around with my knife, munching as I go. I’m left with a rounded version of half a grilled cheese. That part is for Mister. My lunch? I already ate it. I get the crust.
What part of your writing process gets shorted (the crust)?