June 13th, 2020 – 626 – Day eighty-nine

Not gonna lie, I’ve had quite a lot to drink at this point. I don’t think I realised quite how much stress I’d been bottling up until I hit the third beer, and after that it was a bit of a slippery slope. It’s a good thing I am able to compartmentalise inerbriation enough to write this blog, and for that matter target today, because I was so stressed I only write target after my vision started to go funny.

If this is not a tyestiment to ‘the first draft is meant to be bad’, then I think presenting one is beyond me. I am writing the big reveal of my ‘big-bad’ in layman’s terms, and I did it whilst my head spun like a dradel. Is it my best work? Heck no, I’d wager it’s the worst drivel I’ve written in years, though I c an’t read it properly so it’s hard to tell. But it’s in the can, it’s a lump of marble I can sculpt later. Saying that, as I wrap up the story it’s best I don’t make a habit of this.

Right imma go lie down.