Magical Truthsaying Bastard Shadesong (shadesong) wrote,
Magical Truthsaying Bastard Shadesong


It frustrates me that my writing is coming out of me in short staccato bursts like this, that it's not flowing, and I can only hope that my brain will be able to focus longer than this when I get the Keppra out of my system. I think I was better at this before.

I'm not sure how good a job I can do on the flashback bits. I'm going experimental here, in that Doodle wasn't present for some of these events, so from his perspective (and, by extension, from Sara's), we're dealing with conjecture, with hearsay. Griffin will set much of it straight later, but I worry that it's too jumbly now.

Lots of editing when my brain calms down, I think, when I can look at it as a whole rather than just tiny explosions. Because I sit here, having written, and of course there's more to write, but my writerbrain has turned itself off. You're done for tonight. See you in the morning.

Symptomatic of what's going on in my body, and of my new need for self-limitation, I 'spose. I accomplish something and am all proud, then... Okay, you're done. But I can do more! No. You're done. Go read a book. But- No, seriously. I can punish you. Sit down now.

I think it'll be interesting to look back on this later and see what I've actually done. It'll probably be embarrassing, too, but what the hell. I've never been one to shy away from things that might bite me in the ass later!

I'm not doing NaNoWriMo this year. Obviously. I'm considering this as that sort of project in that I demand that I write every day - I'm just not imposing time limits, as I really can't, not in my condition.

But I'm writing every day. Which, in my condition, is Something.


I'm going to go have some cookies now. And read.
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