Haven’t written in two days, no, three. The reasons are manifold, but they all come down to the same thing: I haven’t closed the door on the hurricane of worries that calls itself Real Life. I don’t have to attend to it all the time, really; most of the time it’s just the worried hamster racing around on the wheel between my ears, squeaking that the world will come to an end if I don’t worry about the day job when I’m not even on duty. I could just as well be spending that energy on an imaginary person’s problems as my own.
And something disturbing is moving under the smooth surface of story, but the fin hasn’t broken the surface.
Maybe tonight it will.