Woke up feeling rather on the crappy side of things, emotionally. No reason. Just the vagaries of my chemical system. I know the Prozac needs to take a while to build up before it kicks in. Obviously, it hasn’t yet. I tried to self-medicate with copious caffeine, but it didn’t help. Instead I ended up feeling jittery as well as depressed. Lovely.
Channeled my vile mood into my writing. Apparently my muse was feeling goth, because she just ate up my blue funk. Good for her. I wasn’t up to picking up any of my WIPs–deficient attention span to go with my grim emotional state–so I did some flash. That worked surprisingly well. I actually started and completed two <1K pieces. Cathartic success. Twisted little things, the both of them. I handed one over to fosteronfilm to first reader. The second one I think needs a tweak or two at the end to punch it up before I show it to him.
I may feel like a cement mixer rolled over my soul, but at least it’s pumping ye olde writing bellows. Yay?
New Words: 2000