Under any other circumstances, in any other world, a 2600 word writing day would be _perfectly respectable_. *More* than respectable. And instead, what am I doing? I’m taking a fifteen minute break and going back to work again. I have this fear that when I finally do finish this last push, I’m not going to know how to stop. It’s hard enough to stop my brain from thinking things like, well, if I made a really hard push in August, I could probably get TRUTHSEEKER written by early September… which…