Eighteen Hours of Sleep

I went to bed early yesterday since my headache would not leave me alone, and with the addition of three hours of napping -- also because of aforementioned headache -- I know I have something that I can blame for my crappy word count.

I find my self dilly-dallying today. My mind is still fuzzy, and my left eye feels puffy, like I've some how managed to physically overexert it. Sometimes, when I'm feeling insecure about doing stuff, my hypochondriac tendencies flare up with a vengeance.

I did have a moment of insight while I was drifting off last night, and I repeated it to myself about a hundred times so that it would stay with me when I woke up this morning. I think I will name my novel(la) Smoke and Mirrors. When it came to me, I realized that it fit in all of the right ways. I have tons of imagery that should make someone recall it as they read the book, and it should make people wonder whether the plot I've got with my little god is going to be real or fake, and what it means. It works, also, with the little bit of trickery that I throw in that isn't directed at Dahlia, but at the cultists themselves.

So, in case you missed it in amongst those ramblings. I have a title. Now I just need to finish it. Wish me luck.