The characters in my current work-in-progress have invaded my dreams. This is good and bad. Good, because they are as real to me as they can get. Bad, because I get less sleep. Yes, instead of worrying about genuine flesh and blood people, I am apprehensive over the fate of my imaginary characters. Of course, I am the one who put them in such dire straits in the first place.
The characters are undoubtedly stuck in my brain because I made a lot of progress yesterday--when I wasn't procrastinating by dabbling with a new look for my website. Every time I hit a snag while I was writing, I would surf off and play with a different text color, link color, or font.
Still, I am roughly sixty pages from the end of the book. But my poor characters are really in trouble now.