It’s been a little while since I’ve reached the end of a writing day with the story still burning inside my head. Yesterday I had to force myself to get up and walk away, knowing I’d be useless today if I ended up burning myself out. Part of that was just the New Story Shiny Oooh Shiny, and part of it is the relief that comes every year around this time when I contemplate spending the holidays quietly with the kids.
So I forced myself to walk away last night, made dinner, and played piano to give my brain something else to chew on and exhaust itself with. It worked tolerably well. And at least now I have sleep meds, so I can actually rest instead of lying in the dark watching everything inside me eating itself in sharp, sharp prickle-bites.
In other news, I did a quickie cover for The Marked. The tagline is “Some things are worse than death.” (But we knew that, right? Especially if I’m the one writing them…)
ETA: Okay, I couldn’t help myself.
Now it’s time to meditate, then hit the pavements. Books don’t write themselves.
Over and out.