Icky

February 8

Gah. I've got stuffy sinuses and a headache pounding against the back of my eyes with the relentlessness of waves breaking on the shore. I've been feeling steadily worse all evening. I'm not full-fledged sick, but there's a cold lurking under the eaves, waiting to drop on my head if I'm not careful.

I've written about a hundred words tonight so far. I intend to be virtuous and write some more, but I don't know how effective it's going to be. So far tonight I've mostly laid around, watched television, and read poetry. Reading anything longer than a poem would take too much effort. I'm feeling much the same difficulty when it comes to writing fiction. Which really sucks-- because I have the next several scenes of the bicycle story neatly outlined in my head, and they're cool, and I want to write them. I'm just having trouble pushing through the paper barrier, getting past the fact of words on the screen and into the story. I'm seeing everything through phlegm-colored glasses tonight, and the world has taken on a strange, underwater cast.

Bleah, bleah. I should go to bed early. I think a couple of hours of extra sleep would help me greatly.

I should eat something first, though. Cheese sandwich, then sleep. Okay.

And maybe some more writing while I finish my tea. If I produce more words tonight, I'll tell you about it tomorrow.

Total Word Count: 11,900

Today's Word Count: 102 stupid lousy stinking words (so far)

The Daring Darlings:

Jim C. Hines

Hilary Moon Murphy

Nicole Montgomery

Melanie Miller Fletcher

Karina Summer Smith

Anne Hutchins