I'm sick as a dog. I literally sound like a dog barking, that's how bad my cough is. My girlfriend says I'm running quite a fever and as soon as I get out of bed to go and have a cigarette (I've spent the whole day in bed) I freeze my ass off even though I'm wearing Winter-jammies and slippers and stuff. I may not even go to work tomorrow, either, and as far as I remember, this is the first time I've been sick since I started working at the bookshop in April last year.
So (and I ask this with tears of gratitude in my eyes), how the hell is it possible that I've had the best damn writing-day I've had in a while?
Seriously, I've finished Chapter 9, have completed the first scene of Chapter 10, and my total word-count is now sitting at 45541 words. Guess how many words I wrote today?
Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining; far from it! I'm ecstatic, actually. I just don't understand it. :-)
I guess I've come to realize one very important thing about writing:
No matter how you feel or what's happening on a particular day, you can still kick ass.
Now I'm going to try and backtrack and think about what I ate, drank, how I walked, etc... ;-)