Perhaps it’s time to cut back on the writing, or perhaps I need to write more, I don’t know. Last night I tried to sleep and my brain was buzzing with books I’ve read and stories I’m writing and I couldn’t sleep. When I finally drifted off, my dreams were vivid and fantastical, with invisible monsters stealing souls which were returned by guardians. I’d almost like to write about it, but fear I cannot do the monster justice.
To say the least, I survived today only through the blessing of chocolate and painkillers. Between doing real work, I wrote about wolves and romance and the strange country they meet in. It kept me awake, though I doubt it’ll do much to help me sleep tonight. Need to be competent tomorrow, have a meeting about web content. Motivation is minimal.
Sometimes, when running bare foot and fleeting and alone, you feel graceful.
