Slipping, sliding

I believe I forgot to post yesterday.  Things have fallen slightly out of routine these past few weeks as the flu has raged through this household.  The kidlet is still sickish and has been sleeping a lot – today was the first day he was back to his regular nap of 1.5-2 hours (as opposed to 3-4 hours), though he clearly needed more sleep than that and was a grump until he got to go back to bed.

A couple of decent writing days – I made 2,000 words yesterday, though I just scraped 1,000 today.  And I’m going to be playing with those thousand words again tomorrow, I think, since the two scenes don’t flow well as is and need to be rewritten into a single scene.

I’m still coughing a lot (and probably will be for some time, I think), but it’s so damn nice to be feeling somewhat well again.  It’s going to take me a bit of time to get back to exercising properly (a short walk today left me coughing to a ridiculous level, so much that the pressure from it was giving me a headache), but so long as I can write, I feel sane.  I’m newly enthusiastic about the writing, too, which is kind of awesome.

Reading: I gulped down Jon Armstrong’s Yarn in a couple of days.  Which was…quite extraordinary.  I’m not entirely sure if I’m going to pick up a copy of Grey, written in the same world.  Probably, at some stage when I don’t have hundreds of books waiting to be read.  I’ve moved onto Little, Big, which has been on my to-read pile for a shamefully long time, inspired to read it after listening to Cat Valente squee about it on the latest SF Squeecast.

Mirrored from Stephanie Gunn.