Even if I did not get anything done on the CEM. And even if I have decided that I am ignoring all the long prose things I need to be writing until such time as I feel like I can work on them without triggering suicidal ideations. Which means Chill and Wehrwolf, currently.
But they're just not ripe yet, and trying to write them green is not going to get me any magic. It may get me a hernia. Or a wallow through the slough of despond.
So instead, I am going to read this book I am meant to be critting. And get back to some of this other stuff later.