Bolt upright at 5 am, writing since then. Body clock erratic. Story needs brutal pruning. Damn low word counts. Blue glow from a white screen - no other light. Unable to form sentences, eyes crossing, sleep is a strange machine.
Back to the witch in the forest, incantation, incubus -
Daylight hour approaches, Siberian temperatures forecast. Batteries low.
Nap.
No comments:
Post a Comment