So I set out last night before dinner to write the beginning/skeleton of a short article about a topic on which I had mixed strong feelings, with the intention of selling the thing; at 2am I went to bed sitting on eleven single-spaced pages of unclassifiable essay. I'm terrified that I'll look at it today and find an incoherent jumble. But if it's not, it might be the best thing yet. This year I've learned that one shouldn't just stop writing at the first twinge of fatigue - which is to say laziness. I'm ending my writing much more effectively now, letting the rhythm of the piece tell me when and how to stop, rather than giving in immediately to even weak biochemical suggestion. OK unconvincing maybe but it's my blog, piss off.
Then this morning, up early for an informal interview. If it goes well I'll mention it later, Reader(s); know that if it doesn't, I probably won't. That's justice.
