Up at regular time on a Saturday. Cool and drippy outside, so my protagonist gets a temporary reprieve as a crawl back into bed.
804 words on a rainy Saturday morning. We approach the final confrontation of order and chaos. Our protagonist is filled with false hope.
I'm six weeks into my eight-week process of forming a habit of writing fiction everyday. It seems like it's been going on longer.
Rain here in Minneapolis is throwing a huge damper on possible activities. No dog park. No cleaning out garage. No gardening. Sigh.
A break in the rain gave me a chance to do my garage chore. Now I'm ready for a shower and a nap.
3:00 already? This is why I stay up late on weekends, they go too fast.