I spent my entire weekend writing. I mean, like, 12- 14 hours a day writing. The last stretch ended at 4am today. It's 6:50 am now and I have to get ready for work.
Deadlines. This is the life of a published writer who wants to be published again and has an invitation from her editor to do exactly that, if the book is good enough.
I am brain-dead. I am exhausted. And I really don't think the book is good enough, but I pretty much always think that, so who knows.
Anyway, I can't blog. I can't string coherent sentences together very well right now. I need to sleep and I need to not stare at a screen and I need to take a bazillion ibuprophen and defeat the angry god that's hammering me between the eyes right now.
Catch up tomorrow, I promise.