My Evil Children are plotting against my well-hashed plan to wake up at 5:30 every morning to write. Last night I was woken up three times. Twice by one child’s nightmares, and once by Pathetic Congested Baby. I’m so tired I can hardly stand up.
I didn’t do any more writing last night. I was too busy criticizing the 18 remaining dancers of So You Think You Can Dance. Hardly any of my favorite dancers were even in the top 20 this season. The people that remain are very talented, but none of them blow me away like last season. Then I watched the first hour of By the People: The Election of Barack Obama. It was somewhat inspiration, but also quite boring.
This morning, when the babysitter came (yea! a babysitter day!) I was half tempted to walk upstairs and collapse in bed to take a nap. Instead, I packed up my laptop and drove to my local Panera, where I was lucky enough to get one of the two tables by the gas fireplace. (My Panera is a very competitive place to work. In the mornings, it looks like a corporate office.)
I’ve since slapped down another couple thousand words. But I think I’m writing too much, too soon. I’m already losing steam. I’m already starting to burn out.