On the sixth day, I rested. I didn’t write during lunch. I didn’t write during breaks. I didn’t scurry home and dive for Neo and write the evening away.
In fact, lunch was tedious and painful, with no writing, but I made do. Last night I slouched and drank a bottle of champagne with my darlin’. We both became silly. Very silly. Then there were snugglebunnies, and things were very pleasant, and we prepared for sleep, a sleep that I felt I could actually reach and hold.
Until the last moment of consciousness, when suddenly I knew a conversation that must take place between my protag and his foe, and had to leap from the bed to tap it out before it was gone.
So, I took the day off except for 360 words. I’m not sorry; I feel better than I have in days.
EDIT: My goal for today is another 2,222 words, which will put me a third done. I’ve two hours in a coffee shop tonight in which to attain this goal; we’ll see how close I can get.
FURTHER EDIT: I attained less than I wished, but about 1.5 days wordcount. I shall be satisfied with 30.8%
Crossposted from Epinepherine & Sophistry