I think I must have written 10,000 words over the past three days. Which sounds great, save for the fact that less than a few hundred of them were for the novel.

Busy times. All good. I seem to run on an #ActuallyAutistic cycle where I'm on fire for three to six months and then mostly useless for six weeks. December and the first part of January were those weeks.

I love the smell of Napalm in the morning.

Napalm. What an innocent-sounding, evil, evil word.