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My grandmother, quite suddenly, became very sick, and so the whole family gathered last week to say goodbye. I count myself very fortunate that I was able to go out and see her one last time. It also means I didn’t have much energy left to write. That doesn’t mean I didn’t.

Writing is a habit. It’s something I try to do every day, and by now I’ve done it every day enough that I feel bad when I don’t write anything. It doesn’t always have to be good, or long, or even anything related to my WIP, but I have to do it.

It’s important to maintain habits in a crisis because it’s comforting. So I kept writing. Some of it is drivel. Some of it will have to be totally scrapped and rewritten at a future date. Some of it is too raw to ever show anyone. And some of it is pretty good.

And that’s it. I’m wrung out, and I don’t have a whole lot of words right now. But I wanted to write something anyway, because it’s a habit, and it’s on my schedule, and it makes me feel better.