I just don’t know how to tell the next part of the story, which is odd. Usually this kind of prolonged stall in one area means I’ve gone wrong somewhere, but I can’t figure out where or even if that’s the problem. Nothing stands out as the place of derailment.
But I’m going with a combination attack today.
Part 1: BICHOK. Butt in chair; hands on keyboard.
Part 2: I dedicate today, yet again, to writing excrement. It did seem to have a positive effect on my word count last time around.
The heater under my desk is on. My rice sock is providing a toasty warm place for my feet. My pot of tea is brewed and staying warm on the desk next to me. Matt’s even working on school stuff today (his classes started yesterday), which means I don’t have to tune out the sounds of TBS and video games all day like I did while he was on break.
There’s no reason I shouldn’t turn out at least 2k words of horrible rubbish today. Twice that would be even better, but that won’t happen unless I stop typing here.