Oof. I ODed on a cocktail of stimulants last night: one Tramadol, two Sudafed, and two mugs of coffee. The peppy results were excellent, got a lot of writing done . . . for about two and a half hours. Then my stomach informed me that it was not amused by the corrosive substances I had dumped into it and proceeded to make me miserable for the rest of the night. I thought I had stumbled upon a really good productivity combination--I was clear-headed, wonderfully pain free, and energetic, with no shakes or twitches to boot--but nausea is not a price I'm willing to pay for a few good writing hours. So it's back to being headachey, wing stubby, and logy for me.
Probably just as well. I wrestle quite enough with my caffeine addiction. I don't need to add to it.
Stupid human shell.
This morning Matthew's going to a staff meeting of the Atlanta film festival folks. I slept poorly, so I expect I shall do some napping while he is gone. Hoping to get cracking on some writing when I recover from my up-and-down night. Definitely want to pick up where I left off yesterday.
New Words: 1100 on a short story I began last month. I need to finish something that isn't a folk tale and that isn't the novel. I think my muse has been feeling cramped and needs to stretch. I opened up the file, read through what I started, and hit flow nearly as soon as I set fingers to keyboard. I've missed that. This story's a light little ditty of a tale, nothing deep, no meaningful themes. But it's fun to write, and I hope it'll be fun to read.
Club 100 For Writers