Had some really good ideas pop into my head in the shower this morning. As expected, half of them fled before I could write them down, but I got most of them pencilled into my little notebook. I love the flashes of ideas, but not getting them written down frustrates the hell out of me.
This afternoon I wrote more words than I have in a long time. I *finally* got a handle on that rough stretch in chapter eleven, and I'm convinced it's because I understand the characters a lot better than I did before. Happy camper, here.
The whiny story of slogging through writing my first novel.
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