There's a coffee place at Seven Dials that almost always has a queue out the door. Today I was in a bit later and the queue was managable so I ducked in for a lovely, but ridiculously tiny, latte and almond croissant to go.
Will definitely be doing again, but may well specify adult-size coffee next time because the amount of caffeine was woefully insufficient to keep me upright at the moment.
NaNoWriMo is at 27758 and I am having difficulty thinking of any word other than those generally censored and now (distressingly!) also blurred by the BBC.
I mean REALLY having difficulty thinking of any other word; I pretty much take out my pen/keyboard and write with a constant stream of single curses rolling through my head. I cannot even summon energy for the interesting compound curse words. And they're my favourite.
Beginning and End are happily plotted and the former is satisfactorily drafted, the latter being plotted in full, neatly cross-referenced and conclusionary and complete save the prose. Whereas the middle and general crux of the story are wilfully absent from screen, paper and mind and causing ever more distress.
Inconveniently (but fabulously) busy this evening, am refusing to leave desk until I hit 30k (clearly, writing around other, more monetarily necessary, tasks).
And then I might remember how to breathe.
