I was v. productive today - I don't expect the rest of the week to fall in line like today did, but I'll take what I've got. I didn't get out of bed until almost ten a.m., but I still managed to write 3029 words (12 pages), do two loads of laundry, work out, watch "The Highlander" (the movie, not the series, starring Sean Connery in a supporting role in which he plays an Egyptian/Spaniard who sounds like Sean Connery) as research for my book, respond to a whole bunch of email that I'd been shamefully neglecting, and read a chapter of "The Secret History of the World," which is all about conspiracies and thus v. good for my young adult non-gargoyle romance. I also watched the last episode of Craig's trip to Paris from last week, which was an excellent culmination of a fantastic series of shows. And I even showered somewhere in there, so I'll count that all as a smashing success. If I could write 3000 words every day...
...but I can't, and I shouldn't be going there because then I will be horribly disappointed with myself when I don't do it again tomorrow and will end up ironing my hands or something as punishment. Tomorrow will not be nearly as productive since I'm going to be running around the entire time -- I've got training with Alyssa, followed by a doctor's appointment to find out what's going on with my ulcer friend, followed by a dentist's appointment that I've already rescheduled three times, followed by the potential for dinner in the glorious south bay. If you didn't discern any appreciable writing time in there, you would be correct. So, I'm going to go to bed now and try to get up early to write before going to the gym. I know, if you had a nickel for every time you heard me claim that I was going to get up early, you could buy a whole *chain* of hotels in Bratislava. But really, I might actually do it this time. Goodnight!
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