The night at the end of the tunnel

I’m in a state of low-level agony today. Things are keeping me from writing. For example:

Working
Dicking around on the internet
Reading my Twitter feed
Dicking around on the internet
Talking to A

And I seriously have a lot of fucking work to do. Now I ask myself: how immoral would it be to take a month off work to finish my novel? I need to write the fucking novel. I need to mellow the fuck out and write it. I have a handful of chapters and I add a couple hundred words a day, but it’s not enough.

I wrote NIGHT OWL at an incredible rate. I know, if I had the time, I could write book 2 at the same speed. And speed is important. The energy of the story relies on my ability to channel it. God, and I’m in a weird mental state today — like all I want to do is go for a long, long run. Except that I don’t feel well.

Anyway, I’m going to spend tomorrow writing. That should even me out.