It's amazing what you can adapt to.

I can't believe that I don't even loll in bed when the alarm goes off at 4 a.m. I just pop right up and move like an automaton through the motions: pull on funny socks and bathrobe, turn on the coffee maker, turn on the computer, brush my teeth, splash water on my face, turn on the small living room light, return to the coffee maker for a cup of joe, sit at the computer, type. It's mechanical.

Then, as I go through my day, after having typed abot 1700 words, I don't even think about the novel. It might cross quickly through my mind, like a catbird darting from one crape myrtle to another, but it doesn't light anywhere in the open.

Last time we did this, I obsessed on the book all day, and I was nervous every time I sat at the computer. This time, I suppress the faintest twinge of self-doubt when I first sit in my writing chair, but, in truth, I'm too tired to engage in too much doubt of any kind. As we know from Descartes, doubt is a skill of logic, and this early in the morning skills and logic are still sleeping.

I'm ashamed to say that this is quickly becoming something worse than chick lit, Natalie. I was compelled to pop a blouse button and to engage in a fought off kiss between the two attractive main characters, which is definitely sinking below chick lit into the romance novel domain. Argh. But, wow, what a kiss. It's been so long since I have personally experienced a kiss that I have to confess to a little tingle of my own upon writing the scene, and the male lead does make me a little giddy. I'll probably insert more kissing just for my own benefit.

However, my two main characters are both celibate, so it won't be too bawdy. I know, weird, right? Especially considering the nature of the story, but they each have very legitimate reasons for avoiding the complications inherent in physical intimacy. They're going to spend a lot of time together over the next two (book) weeks, so there's no telling what may happen.