I can never predict this. Never. Sleep, mood, anxiety—none of it seems to influence how much or how little I will write.
Started out slow today, then sped up and couldn’t stop and look, 1864 fucking words. That’s crazy, just crazy. I guess I had a lot to say. Hard chapter, too. Lots of pain. 11 scenes left. Just 11 scenes. This draft will be done soon, I can feel it.