This week – for non-writing reasons – has not been good. It happens.
I was really excited about what i was going to write tonight – there was a great start, i really wanted to see where the story went. But I was drained. Tired. Just not up to it. I didn’t want to sit down at all, I wanted to curl up and read, or watch something stupid on netflix.
But writers write. That’s what you do. You write. There are no mental health days.
And sure, I may have not really written the scene – this should have been another 1k words, at least, but the last 250 was really just a bullet list of the sequence of events more than anything resembling story.
But I wrote.