So the alarm went off a little earlier than it has for the past two weeks. The dog didn’t budge. She barely raised her head. But I felt the psychic waves rolling off of her:
You’ve got to be freaking kidding me.
I was up in time to see Oreo do her stretch-walk out of Miss B’s room. And we did our morning routine, albeit much earlier than the past few weeks:
- Dog, out
- Pets, fed
- Coffee, brewed
- Exercise, commenced
- Computer chair, stolen by cat
Oh Dark Thirty isn’t all bad. I listened to Michael Hauge’s talk on character arcs during the commute today, then grabbed his Six Stage Plot Structure.
I may not have quite as many words as some of the others on JaNo (5,131 at last count), but I’m feeling strangely fine.
Writing Wrongs 