Nothing new there. However, I’ve come to actually enjoy my seat on the floor that started back when my back was tweaked and I had to sit up against the wall for support. I have like a little fort that I climb into with my couch on one side and an ottoman in front and an end table rounding things out. It’s my rewriting bunker. And, yes, I’m a lunatic. But that’s where I’m getting through the most pages so that’s where I’m parking my ass.
And, frankly, this process breeds lunacy anyway. I’m reading the story I made up over and over and over again with very little else in the way of entertainment. I put on shows in order to have some background noise but those usually get paused when my nose finally touches the grindstone and then I’ll look up awhile later and unpause for a few more minutes before getting back to the rewriting and, once again, pausing. I’m used to, like, other books being in my life. And other movies. You ever tried reading the same book over and over again? It’s very weird.
Or maybe I’m very weird.
Maybe it’s a happy combination of the two.
Either way it was a three day weekend and alternating nights out with afternoons rewriting has driven me insane.
I didn’t know if it was morning or night when I woke up today.
Hooray for Presidents.