Well, it's safe to say this has been an interesting week.
Last Friday, Legionnaires will recall that I declared victory over whatever foul virus besieged the Watson household.
Truth be told, I've not been able to shift the fatigue, the scratchy throat, nor the brain fog or dull ache in my bones, for that matter.
Not properly.
Lady Laura is still wrestling with it, too, and we're starting to suspect we contracted the dreaded c-word…
COVID.
We've had it several times before, and it sure rhymes with those previous encounters.
Some days, I'm totally fine.
Then there are days like today where I struggle to distinguish 'there' from 'their,' much less spell anything beyond six letters without consulting the spellchecker.
It's frustrating.
Wholly so.
I've been keeping this to myself since last Friday's now-premature declaration, for concern it portrays me as an excuse-maker. I'm many things, including a royal arse and an egregious pun peddler, but this isn't one of them.
The other reason I've kept it close to my hairy chest is that I've not wanted to admit it has hampered my progress with Book 7.
It has, and every fibre of my cloth loathes saying it out loud.
For all the genius George RR Martin is for giving birth to GoT, his delays in writing — much less publishing — the final book of his blockbuster series have made readers jaded and deeply impatient with fantasy authors.
And I feel that as both a reader AND a scribe.
(Cheers, George).
What I will say, however, is this:
Unless the big man upstairs taps my shoulder early, this book will be released by the end of next month, COVID or not, and I'm able to say that because on the days my brain fog clears up enough to sit down and type, my spirit is ablaze with joy and the pages seemingly write themselves.
That is no truer now that I’m in the final act where the real cinematic moments are taking place — the battles, the loss, the devastation, the unspoken words of men who don't know if they will see tomorrow.
Unbridled joy, let me tell you.
Even on the days when the fog is thicker, and I tire quicker, I still commit myself to writing something, even if those words end up getting cut.
Another way I'll meet this self-imposed deadline (beyond gulping down every health supplement known to man) is by extending my three-times-weekly Legion missives by another week.
I know, it sucks.
But believe it or not, these emails can take the better part of an hour or more to write, so those couple of days add up considerably.
Speaking of which…
Feel free to let me know how you've found this cadence and be honest. Anything less is an insult to your Overlord & Saviour.
If you prefer it, say so.
If you miss my daily musings and desperately want it back, don't mince your words.
I'm all ears.
Besides, I've given my ego some pub money, so he will be out for the evening. And on that note, have a great weekend, Legionnaire.
See you on Monday!
DJJW
P.S. I'm aware this email is NOT a Fun Fact Friday segment. In truth, I just haven't had the energy or time to venture out on the digital plains with my pickaxe. Apologies. It shall resume next week.