I was writing in bed on Sunday, still not quite recovered from the encephalitis. The demon was at work though and I just had to let it all out.
God knows if what I’ve written will make any sense. I’m a writer, deep insecurities are part of the job.
Will this story be any good?
Time will tell as I put all the pieces together.
My husband provided tea, coffee and snacks.
“Feeding the monster, she forgets!”