So here I am at the coffee shop. Bad news: the internet at my new house isn't hooked up yet. Good news: I found the box with my underwear in it. Next time I decide to move, somebody slap me upside the head. Seriously.
The whole moving experience is going to be a great help, however, next time I write about a character who's exhausted. I pushed myself beyond the limits of human strength--leastwise for a fifty-year-old woman. Who'd have known that even eyelashes can hurt when you're super tired?
So my plan for basic writerly survival over the next several months is to run away from home for a few hours, 3 or 4 days a week, and use that time to begin a new manuscript...even if the internet starts to work.
You Were Made for Home
11 hours ago