Yesterday, I kind of sat on my laurels a bit. 188 words, and some half-arsed configuration in Scrivener (I spent most of my time in there sorting out the structure for Ice & Earth). Today, I plan to get a bit more done, even if it leaves me shattered.
As it happens, I already feel like death warmed over – this is a rotten cold. I don’t remember colds being this bad when I was a teenager; they seem to be getting worse as I get older. As it is, I’m deaf in one ear (though nowhere near as bad as my best friend with a burst eardrum) and have a sporadic headache. Neither of which is conducive to getting my work done, much less writing a novel.
Then again, that’s a pretty good prompt. What happens when someone in the story gets a cold?
Arcane man-flu. Nice one. Now I have to go and write that.