... like so many tubby marathon enthusiats who delude themselves into a state of good health... Like me.
Four really good days of 2500 words at a time and close to catching up, followed by a weekend of nada. Now 10,000 words behind. I just can't bring myself to write anymore. I don't know enough about psychosis to describe it.
Should just go with it. Editing is for accuracy... Shut up, brain. This isn't your best day.
Don't go there... Goddamnit brain, I know that place is nice... with the castle ruins growing poppies in the cracks and the caved in roof bringing a still weight of fresh air. The corridoor is long and the doors off their hinges. Grass is thickening between the slabs and in one room lies an apothecary of the weird and disturbing.
There's no one there anymore.
Let it lie.