I wrote 7,500 words yesterday. Despite a miserable night being sick after a bad frozen pizza, I was up this morning writing again. I am almost done with this book. I'm about to crash right into the big final confrontation. And work is interfering! I just got home from work, and tomorrow is my big ten-hour day.
It's bad, because while I am typically a rather emotionally volatile person anyway, when I'm in the throes of a difficult scene or the end of a book, I'm much worse. And this week I don't even get my usual Thursday off. And everything managed to go wrong today, from minor irritations like running out of a particular handout, to major ones like the incorrect installation of a testing program I was supposed to use tonight that could not be fixed, so that tomorrow I have to call and reschedule ten people who were supposed to test tonight. And oh, were they happy.
Last night I picked up Moon Called by Patricia Briggs out of my To Be Read pile, because it was the thinnest book in the stack and I needed something to occupy me in between me getting intimate with Mr. Toilet from up close (TMI, I know. Sorry. Hope you weren't snacking). Not only is it darkish urban fantasy with werewolves, but Patricia Briggs is on the bottom of the "I want to read this" stack because I read her Dragon Bones book a few years ago and thought it was crud. But you know what? I'm enjoying Moon Called very much, which just goes to show that one should always revisit authors one dislikes from time to time.