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

  • Mood:
I hate it when my brain gets too fried to write. Got exhausted, got up to do something else, and am too frazzled to tap the writerbrain.


6,970 words on the NaNo project, so far. That's not insignificant. It's ahead of the official daily quota. I'm doing okay. I will perhaps file things, I will watch an episode of Greg the Bunny, I will return to the computer at some point today and do more.

The scene that I'm on now doesn't belong in this story. I think I'll excise it and include it later. The rest of this story is exclusively about Jeramie and Alanna, and this is about Jessa. Jeramie and Jessa. But Alanna is nowhere around. So it doesn't fit.

On this post-election day, I suppose it's fitting that Jessa's last words in this segment (not her last words of her life, which are "I love you," to her daughter) are "My conscience will not allow me to stay silent."

The next story is going to be called "Immortal Frankenstein"; it's about a character y'all have already met, but you didn't know he was immortal. Or, well, Frankensteiny.

I'm not going to be reading LJ at all today. Just FYI.

EDIT: Sorted and folded all of Elayna's outgrown clothes and stored them in big Rubbermaid bins for the spring and autumn installments of The Biggest Consignment Sale in the Southeast.

Why do I insist on doing this shit when I'm "out of spoons"? I just can't get used to not being able to do everything that I should be able to do. My brain says, "Just three more chores!" and my body says, "Bitch, please."

I am going to go read catalogs. Which is something I need to do - $WINTERHOLIDAY shopping - but it feels like a relaxing-thing.
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