One of those “Oh, Crap” nights. One where the pillows feel like rocks and the noise in the head sounds like a party in the next-door apartment . One of those nights where one hears the clock chime one, two, three, four. Where the next day is going to feel like a colon-detox.

The Oh, Crap Night. The night with an idea in it that repeats itself over and over between your ears. An idea that may change the form of the end of the book. And idea that leaves you with 150 tape-counted seconds of nots in your little silver bedside memory. An idea you can’t wait to try on for fit, as tired as you’re going to for-sure feel. And idea you can’t wait to get to.

Because Oh, Crap Night leads to Oh My Morning.

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