I've been writing for nearly fifteen days straight now, and I'm already on 60 pages. I'm feeling pretty good about the page count, but I'm beginning to seriously doubt that I still own a shred of sanity. How did I come to this conclusion? Well, I'll tell you.
A couple of days back, I introduced a new character into the story. He's an academic, arrogant man with hair that appears to grow outwards rather than down the way. He's also very smart and has a high self esteem. Condescending, he doesn't get on with that many people very well. This was my new character: A government researcher/scientist working on a temporal gate in the middle of Tower Bridge.
Several pages after creation, I realized something. The character's name was Professor Pisces.
Unfortunately for me, I appear to have written myself into my own script; my own TV series. Unusually, I managed to give him my personality, too, which is probably why I find him so easy to write, if you catch my drift. So somehow, without actually noticing, I have insinuated myself into a TV series focusing on the terrors of time travel. Wow.
I'm simply wondering if I'm mad, unlucky or that my subconscious mind is working against me. Maybe I should get some more sleep...
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