I hadn't written for nearly two weeks and then I went to bed on Saturday night and the voices in my head were quiet. Usually lying in bed is a good time to think about my work in progress. To dwell on their plight and plan ever greater torture to entertain my readers.
But my characters in my work in progress had muted and I was bereft. The thing about writing a novel is if too much time passes between dipping in and you lose the flow. You start forgetting what has come before and getting back into it requires great effort.
I woke the next day and wrote all day. Sometimes in half an hour stretches between errands, other times ten minutes. The voices returned. I was in the flow. I have plotted the third act of the novel. Finishing feels so close I can taste it, but those pesky deadlines are in my way. So for the month of October I just need to ensure I dip in here and there, even if it's to write 500 words. And when I finally clear my plate I can hoe in and finish my book.