Day of excess eating, good company and as it turns out, late writing. The former two are good, even the excess as I don’t exactly care about maintaining a trim figure; food tastes too good to fight for much more than breaking even. But late writing? That sucks just as long as it always has. Still need to tonight.
Reading IT by Stephen King, as I’ve wanted to for years now but for the longest time I’ve resisted reading fiction. Yeah, I know that’s a bizarre thing for someone who lives to write fiction to day, but to be fair it’s more for every fiction book I read, I read like 3 nonfiction ones, and I listen to every book multiple times. I’ve reread King’s 11/22/63 at least 6 times now. IT is a good book, enjoying it. I’m aware of the ‘infamous’ scene later on but even knowing that’s going to happen I’m still liking it.
Now to write…
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