For some reason, I've woken up every morning this past week in a funk. Nothing serious, just a mild, temporary depression. There's no reason for it; life is better than it has been in years, the kitchen's stocked, and I'm creative again. As soon as I have my first coffee it goes away, but that initial twenty minutes is hell. Come to think of it, it happens when I wake up from a nap, too, and only a good cup of tea can chase it away. Is this something that has to do with age? God, I hope not. Being an optimistic sort, I'm going to say that it's this winter weather.
I worked on a client's site last night from 9:00 to 4:00, and there's still so much to do. That's a good thing, by the way. I'm definitely spending my weekend writing, though.
Last night I dreamed of one of my characters on stage. I was watching him play, which was really informative. I may have to fit that into the book somewhere. Earlier, during an evening nap, I dreamed I was at his house, walking around. I recognized some of the rooms and saw others that I hadn't yet created in my mind. All this is really cool stuff, I think.
Yesterday, Ville suggested I write a prequel when I'm done with this, and I think it would be a really interesting story. Who knows? I just may wind up being the first author to write a Rock trilogy!