Knee-deep in edits for my second book. Last night I wrote for so long that when S finally got home he looked to me like a paper-thin cut out, something I dreamed up.
It was later than I thought, but I feel like that’s always the case.
I’ve been waking up in the middle of the night and just lying, eyes open, for an hour or two.
So I’m tired- but at least everything seems like it’s leading somewhere meaningful.