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Not sure where I’m going with this post, but it’s probably somewhere. The latest plan–which consists of waking up and dictating some fiction, which I’ll admit doesn’t seem to be all that complicated–is working to some extent. I’m producing words again. Couple of things to note: First, this business of stopping one story in favor

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Indeed. I understand that outlining works for many people. Some call it a crutch; others mumble comments to the effect that planning is not a sin. Perhaps there is merit in here somewhere. For myself, it turns off my brain. There is nothing enjoyable about writing to an outline–yes, I understand an outline contains much

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I know–I should be more specific. Where, exactly, isn’t rationality? Everywhere, I say, and I’ll put money on it too. But okay. I keep doing the same thing; that’s how I know I’m sane. I start these projects, knowing that I don’t have time for them. On the other hand, if I don’t start projects…how

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Greetings! I had just decided it was up to me to manage my lack-of-sleep issue, and quit letting it happen at all–much less mess up my writing or other projects–so four new foster kids arrived late on Friday night, screwing up my planned bedtime, but for a good cause, yes? We knew it was possible,

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So this is dumb: I slept, according to my Fitbit dingus, for less than an hour and a half last night. Feels about right. Why? Because I have this stupid tendency to obsess over solving problems. Why have I allowed this tendency to develop? Well…here’s the weird thing: I have a history of actually solving

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I recorded a new story yesterday instead of doing the edits I thought I was going to do–I just got started and it seemed to flow. Then I discovered the audio files on my phone suddenly all had a length of 0 megabytes each when it came time to transfer/transcribe them. No idea why. Didn’t