Working, working, working and not much writing

Life is getting in the way of making a book happen. The long drive home is inspirational, but by the time I arrive at the doorstep to my computer, I'm beat. Can't think. Have to fix dinner and do ordinary, every day things that can't be put off and then, the day is over.

Like today for instance, I've written a whopping 5 paragraphs. Better than no paragraphs I suppose but I was hoping for so many more. Pages in fact. Just when I get going with it and the words start to flow, the ideas are coming, I feel the inevitable drag of weariness pulling at my eyes, enticing me toward sleep and dreams. I'm fighting it off with this kind of writing, which is easier than book writing. Continuity is a pig! Especially when you can't remember yesterday much less what happened in a multi-character epic nightmare of a story.

I'm going to bed now.