"Honest, officer, the cat wouldn't let me leave...."
Not much writing done yesterday--it sort of got declared a goof-off day, and I had dinner with friends, hung out in chat rooms, edited about a page and a half (which somehow involved writing an additional 131 words--despite the fact that I kept cutting things, so I guess I did write about a page) and did not go to bed early, after all.
I'm in an interesting place, writing-wise. After two years of really intensive effort and productivity, I'm trying to convince the guilt gorilla that I really don't need to spend *all* my time racking up word count, and that it's okay to relax a little and let the well refill.
The world will not end if I do not get all 11 novels I currently have competing for space in my brain on paper by Tuesday next.
Really.
Time for a switch to sustainable agriculture, I think. As soon as I can figure out how to de-overclock the productive part of my brain.
