Slept something like twelve hours last night and I’m totally out of it. I feel like my brain is coated in a viscous cotton candy swamp and I want nothing more than to go back to sleep. But I really think twelve hours ought to be plenty, dammit.
The bed looks awfully comfy, though.
Anyway, 1100 words (give or take) on the novel. Got briefly stumped on a scene I wanted to write but didn’t know how to approach. Then had a conversation with Matthew about something totally off the subject and it clicked. Words on the page commenced.
Can barely think. Want to sleeeppp . . .