There are only 19 days left in 2020. Yes, the ‘year’ is arbitary, and January 1st 2021 will be for all intents and purposes identical to December 31st 2020. Granted I despise New Year’s Eve with a passion so it’s not entirely true, but my broader point is this mess in my head, much like the one in the wider world will not go away on the stroke of midnight. But, I hope I won’t be writing at the stroke of midnight that day.
TWO is not so much a hard book to write as a hard one to get my head into when also psyching myself up to write by hand, and writing so late at night. I’m thankful I’ll be forced to do a complete rewrite of the story as that is going to help iron out a lot of the fug that’s gotten caught in the spokes along the way. Without that kind of bottom up redo I’d have a lot less confidence in this story. But I’m also convinced for my health’s sake that typing is the way to go for now afterwards.
It’s been a lonely year. I cannot wait for a time where I can leave the house and feel free again, not anxious that if I mess up I’ll put my family at risk. Touch of the old paranoia has managed to resurface on the back of that and it’s not welcome to stay. Fix the sleep, fix the routines, and hopefully, I’ll fix this defective brain. Maybe not by the 31st, but I will.