(This post was originally written on 750words.com. It has been edited.)

Can’t put this off any longer. I don’t know why. Sometimes I can’t wait to wake up and write, and others, the tab just sits open in my browser all day. It’s 11:31 now, so I don’t have much time left to bang out 800 words. I was kind of hoping to do some real writing today, but, man, I really needed the time to decompress from this job. It’s tough. It’s kind of killing me. It makes me nervous and anxious and doesn’t give me nearly enough time to daydream. That’s the hardest part. It’s not the physical demands, it’s everything else.

My life is a lot harder to live when I can’t be daydreaming. I need that inner life. I need it to write mostly. But I also need it to get through the days and to deal with people. I need to know that there’s always a space that I control that I can go to. Somewhere I can escape. That world is always changing. Most of the time, it’s the world of whatever story I want to be working on.

I didn’t spend a lot of today figuring the world out, but some. I couldn’t quite tell you what I spent today doing. Mostly, decompressing. A kind of debriefing. I needed some time to catch up on the internet before I started in on the new project. I’m still not sure exactly how it’s going to work. 30 days to collect first, I think. We need some time to get the characters worked out a little more before we start writing. And plot. Is this a story about getting together or being together?

I like stories about being together more. And you read them so very rarely. The default, it seems, is stories about how people overcome the obstacles on the way to love. But what about love itself. Where are the stories about how to live together, how to work together, how not to kill each other so you can still be together years from now? Those are the kinds of stories I want to read more of. They’re just not the kind of stories you find on the shelves, so it’s hard to know if they don’t sell at all, or they just haven’t yet.

Somebody loved that man enough to knit him a sweater, but didn’t love him enough to fit it properly. I keep closing my eyes and just typing, and weird things are coming out. I can’t even explain it. I’m so tired, I may have to cut this one short. Not shorter than the goal, of course, but let myself off the hook. I’m gonna start typing the commercials that are coming from–I can’t even tell you where that sentence came from. That is too weird. It’s like those moments when you’re typing, and someone in the room is counting, and you start counting on the downtime. I don’t even know what that means, but I think it means I can get to 800 words. No problem. It’s actually super easy when you have an actual superhero in out midst.