So, I’ve been sick this week. And I am thoroughly sick of being sick. It’s only a cold, but it’s kind of a nasty one. The kidlet had it first, then me, and now the husband appears to have succumbed. We’re a fun household.
But, despite being sick, I have been writing. To the tune of 10,500 words this week. I’m even kind of liking this book again, so maybe I’m past the horrible middle? Cruised over the 70k mark, too.
Links for the week:
Sarah Wilson talks about taking time.
Chuck Wendig asks “What’s wrong with fiction today?”
Peter M. Ball talks ideas