Writing through the good and the bad

Husband said something upsetting to me this morning. We had one of our Not-Fights, in which I cry and in which he sits there and feels wretched because he made me cry, and within 15 minutes we're apologizing to each other and coming up with a solution to the issue. (The issue was whether he would go to a friend's wedding this weekend, since Certain People were going to be there that he cannot stand. The compromise? A tersely worded message from me to Certain People to be civil this weekend, for the sake of our friend.)

I'm going to make myself write this afternoon, despite this. I actually sometimes write better when I'm emotionally distraught. When my father passed away in 2004, I spilled out about 10,000 words over the course of three days. I won't be writing any happy scenes, but that's okay because the section I've been brooding over these last few days is sinister, with villains. It needs me to be cranky to get the mood right.

I am, however, going to do this writing holed up over in Barnes & Noble with a Frappucino.