It’s funny. I finished up the latest draft of my book thinking that as soon as a I was done I could take a writing break. I looked forward to this break. I intended to read a dozen books or so and then get back to it refreshed and ready to go. However I am currently at a lose.
I know while I was writing there was a pile of books taunting me, but now not a one of them looks interesting. And my fingers feel odd not pressing down the keys in a mad dash to finish something. I also have only minnow sized ideas that need time to grow into big fish before I try to catch them on paper. So writing is out too.
Also I am completely exhausted. I would like to take time just to sleep but it seems that I am denied that as well. I am sure the universe has some kind of plan going on here but I’m not seeing it at the moment.
My current theory is that I am being left dangling and sleep deprived so that eventually, in a fit of frustration and insomniac delirium, I will write the ultimate work of fiction. Unfortunately, if my current luck holds true, I will forget to sign this ultimate work and it will go down in history as written by that prolific immortal author, Anonymous.