I’ll be honest. I had a little freakout this week.
I don’t even know if anyone but me noticed it, since so much of my life happens within the confines of my skull. (For this fact, the test of the world should probably be happy.) Suffice it to say, on my lunch hour when I usually write, I spent too much time reading too much of the news, figured societal collapse was inevitable within the next six months, so what the hell was the point in anything anyway, especially stories?
You can imagine this is not a great mindset to encourage writing.