November 14th, 2020 – 780

Sometimes I really don’t understand why I order pizza. I always feel bleugh afterwards and yet the idea of pizza in my head is always so good. I have no clue what’s going on there – it’s not a good intolerance, the crossover with cheesy pasta (no ill effects) is too high. But other than feeling a pinch blugh I’m ok, writing, and exhausted.

Writing by hand is lovely, and I have missed it, but there is a mental barrier that’s not often there for regular writing on a PC. It’s a lot easier to type on autopilot for sure, which isn’t a good thing if you want better work out of a first draft, but it sure gets one in the can easier. But for a story I have some ideas about but otherwise haven’t planned, a first draft I’m forced to rewrite is no bad thing.

I need sleep. Going to do my best to get a full night’s rest tonight, which I haven’t managed in a while. Assuming that pizza doesn’t keep me awake…