Nothing should get in the way of my sleep.
God sent me babies who slept many hours at night, because He knows this about me: I need to sleep at night.
But last night, after a late, late night of Colin Firth, I was antsy, so I read for a while. I finished the book (Catalyst, by Laurie Halse Anderson - 3 stars) and it was many hours past late. Then I tossed. And I rolled. And I pondered. This is all very unusual. There are few nights that I don't sleep like I mean it. I am very good at sleeping.
And the few times during the night that I recognized that I was sleeping or dreaming, my subconscious inserted scenes from my WIP that I hate, or that my critiquers questioned. Yes, dears, I was "dreaming" revisions.
Writing is fun. It is wonderful. It is a great gift. But it is for waking hours. See, this is different than dreaming characters who, upon my waking, fill pages with bestselling adventure series. This isn't dreaming, really. This is working in my sleep. And that is simply not fair.
And I am a firm believer in Fair.
So, I'm up and doing, putting those wrinkly scenes and lines to the press, getting them smoothed out so that tonight (or at noon today) I will get into my bed and sleep the sleep of the just. At least until I recognize some new wrinkle.