Today's just icky; nothing's going right; and everything coming out of my mouth wrong. Even though I go over it in my head and it sounds fine. Should've just stayed in bed day.
I finished the rough draft of "Let Us Give Thanks." I know, I know, supposed to let it sit and work on original fiction. I got tired of my muse beating up on me. I need to work on editing, but nobody has come forward to help with Blue Man yet. I'm waiting for the group I sent Capt. Kate's story to send it back--they might need a reminder.
I should reconnect with the LaPlace author I found at the writing conference, but today my gumption to do anything is nil.
Work through the funk. That's the only remedy I have right now.
Read Free!
The BookWorm
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