I have felt out of sorts all day. It is one of those off-kilter feelings, as in there is nothing you can pinpoint as to exactly what’s wrong or what is causing it, just that while yesterday was like being on top of the world, today is like being crushed underneath it. Maybe this is normal for people, but I’m never sure if it’s that or my mental illness.
Whichever, it made writing today a slog. Some days everything is so sluggish that nothing seems any good. One boring sentence after another plops down on the page until there’s a thousand words or more, each more tepid than the last. These are what I like to refer to as “plot days”; if anything useful comes of it or gets retained in editing–most likely perfunctory plot points, bits of setting, or (fingers crossed) dialogue–then hallelujah Maybelline, we have a winner.
I don’t even feel like writing this today. Real work kept me busy, my mind drained. Inspiration = nonexistent. I got half of chapter 37 done. Yay.
Words written today: 1,071
Total for this manuscript: 86,003
Total for 2017: 5,195