Five pages. I know I could have pushed for more, but with being under the weather, I think that it wouldn’t be in my best interest to do more than I can handle and be up and about more than I can handle. I do have some more ideas floating around now, but I feel like I’m walking through a fog, illness and story-wise. With the story it seems like I’m getting an idea and then once I get through it another one comes along. Almost like the characters are practically having to guide me through. It’s pretty interesting. I haven’t ever really experienced this kind of think before, especially so close to the end of a novel.

Bedtime!

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