Why is it that whenever I am working seriously toward a deadline (and in this case, multiple deadlines) my health falters? I don’t see what I’m doing differently except less TV and less sleep, but in reality not really that much less sleep. And then when I don’t feel good I am less inclined to push extra hard to make that deadline. So I get behind, which makes the whole process worse, and I just want to lie down on the couch to boot.

Anyway, it’s Wednesday morning and I am about to leave to take over a table in Starbucks with my laptop. I’ve got permission to get in to work at 10am on writing days. I’m making great progress on the outline (yes, I am still working on that outline!), but there is much yet to do. I used my own advice and polished up the end and now I have to make sure the plot elements build up to that outcome. My body is asking me to please go back to bed; it’s not feeling too well this week. But my mind is all raring to go. So all I need to do is drag myself a few blocks west, get caffeine, stow myself at table, and start typing. I may crash at work, but who cares. I think this is why many of the other people who write these books don’t have full-time jobs.