I slept 17 hours yesterday. It had to be the stress.
I’m really glad I’m currently working on non-fiction, because the last week would just drown everything out. I’ve been there before: the novel suddenly takes an awkward left turn into Life territory, the prior plot never to be seen again.
I think I’d handle it better than in times past. Hard to say, though. I have better instincts about knowing when I’m taking a wrong turn.
It’s a time better used for editing or development work rather than the actual first drafting. At least for me.