Well, despite my best attempts, I seem to be toying with the idea of catching Randy's flu. After a quick run out this morning, I settled in with orange juice and tea and tissues, and found my brain was all full of cotton. I managed a few hundred words, edited everything I wrote yesterday, fought for an hour with a recalcitrant scene, then gave it up as a bad job and switched over to business stuff for SHADOWS, because there wasn't any creative juice in the brain. No Nyquil for me tonight; it makes me quite stupid the next day.
Off to do some book research in the form of Casino Royale and to down some Jewish penicillin of my own. I refuse to get sick. Positive thinking, right?