Frustration

My back-up PC is misbehaving, and my laptop is now well and truly among the departed. I'm sitting in the public library, surrounded by over a dozen chatty denizens of the greater South Lyon metropolitan area, trying not to pity myself for my lack of cyberability. All things change in time, I know.

I got derailed in the middle of chapter 12 of Sacrifice, with 12 more chapters to go. I hate this, because it's like I got interrupted in the middle of a thought, and I'm afraid to start another sentence for fear of losing the one I was in. I only have so many mental fingers to mark the virtual pages in my head, and most of those are currently consigned to my "day job", the curse of every aspiring writer.

I have vivid dreams and wake full of inspiration, but my stupid superstitions and my fear of losing the Sacrifice thread keep me from starting anything new. I don't know why my mind is so broken.