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I’ve been sitting here for awhile typing away, and not doing myself much good. Yes, I’m past deadline, but Merry takes more out of me than Anita, and this book has been low page count. I did ten pages this morning. I should be celebrating. Instead I’m beating myself up because my muse and I are done for the day. We are stick a fork in us, honey, done. I feel like a dried up pool, and if I keep trying to get water out of the mud, come tomorrow morning it’s just going to be dry dirt. So, I’ve tested my understanding with Jon, and had my ephinay. I’m done for the day. Ten pages is great, especially for the rhythm of this book. So, I’m off to do something else. I’m off to see if I can find things to put some water back in that dry pool. Writing is so different from other jobs. It really is about filling up that well of ideas and energy. Right now, I’m shoveling from the bottom, and I need a fill up. So, we’re going to get me out of the house for awhile and see if I can relearn how to take a deep breath.