After finishing my words last night, I realized that the last scene I had written felt wrong. So I went back into my notes and started tinkering around with my plans for the episode. I like what I have now better, but I’m still not happy. It’s the midpoint of the whole story, but it feels flat. I guess it could be just because I’m writing it very quickly, with a lot of sections reduced to little more than dialogue. But it’s hard to get motivated to write it at the moment. Which is lame, because it should be large and exciting.
So I have tomorrow’s episode scheduled to publish, but I haven’t written anything today. I have a headache and the people next door are having some raucous party with Spanish-language music at high volumes. I’m mad at myself for not getting more done and for wanting to just go to sleep, despite my long nap this afternoon. And the horse we just brought home from the equine hospital is having stomach problems, possibly antibiotics-related, and may need to be taken back up there. Oh, yeah, I’m loving this.
Part of me wants to curl up and die. Part of me wants to have a writing marathon through the night as a sort of fist-shaking act of defiance. I’m not holding out a lot of hope for that second option.