Just as I've moved all useful novel-notes out of the house, my lower back goes out and I'm immobilised. The writing room is now back to being the kitchen. But at least I'm sort of vertical, after being horizontal all yesterday. I started the rewrite, crippled or not. (Last week was all planning and plotting and note-making, not writing proper prose.) It may not make a lot of sense, though, with all the painkillers at work in my head.
I finished reading Nike's book - there was pain as promised, but a lot of beauty too. Got a fair way through the Congreve/Marquardt Year's Best Aus. SF&F
. Made a good start on Traumascapes
Slept, slept, slept. Dreamed, dreamed, dreamed - nothing that stuck, though. Generally, I was as absent from the world as I could manage.