No rest for the weary

I could hardly get any writing done, but it is days like today that remind me how much I want to write professionally. Tuesday's are always big days for my job, and going in at 5:30 I worked a 10 1/2 hour day. My job is a lot of moving around, so by the end I could just barely make it up the stairs to my apartment. A few sentences were scribbled down to complete what I had pulled off during work breaks. It's difficult to write when I'm that exhausted, but that's something I know I'm going to have to work to overcome. Eventually I should be able to put down some of the finest literature the world's ever known even after two days without sleep.

There was little time for writing or relaxing before it was time to go practice with my improv group. I've always found improv to be a nice creative outlet. The main problem with a really good practice is that you know all the wonderful things you made up that night will only ever be seen by the people who were watching you at that very moment. But it also means you're capable of coming up with something that funny, so you could probably do it again.

It looks like day three of my journey down the novelist road will end with me taking the notebook to bed, attempting to get through at least a page before succumbing to the demands of the sandman. Exit light (couldn't resist).