Illness/shingles tried to get in the way of my writing, and while I haven’t written every day, I have managed to throw a few words together often. The motivation is mostly due to the fact I’m seeing the light at the end of the tunnel of the next book.

So I’ve reverted to my old habit of going to bed and thinking about the chapter in play. I rehearse the characters, the plotting, the dialogue, and the beats. Last night was no different. At my normal bedtime, I commenced thinking of chapter 26.

But I couldn’t sleep. And I couldn’t think clearly. I got up once, read a book, then returned and recommenced thinking of the chapter. As my eyes grew heavy, my mind took off. So much information. Characters behaving differently than expected. Some red herrings I hadn’t thought of before. More motive.

Argh, I couldn’t stand it. I jumped up, grabbed the closest pen which happened to be purple, and snared the closest pad which happened to be the one I list Christmas presents in each year to keep up with purchases. Then standing in front of the dark television, I laid it on the stand, bend over, and wrote. Two pages of writing. Nice ideas, if I say so myself.

Which is a long lesson to tell you to keep a notepad by your bed because you’ll never remember ideas in the morning, and you don’t want to stand in a thin nightshirt in the middle of a cold night trying to jot them down!