There are times I'm amused by the excuses people come up with for not writing. Then there are times when I'm less amused.
Today is one of the latter.
I've been back to work for a week now after the flu from hell. I still have a lovely little bronchitis cough that will not go away. It still doesn't take much to fatigue me.
For example, I had my annual gynecological exam this morning. After my visit, I stopped at Starbucks to pick up coffee for DH, tea for me and some breakfast. Everything took me a whole whopping hour. By the time I got home from just those two errands, I was so tired I could barely crawl up the stairs to our apartment.
Despite the lingering health issues, I've written a hair over two thousand words this week, and edited a good chuck of a novel. So when I read yet another article about some writer whining she can't make a living because it takes her ten years to write one novel, I'm like "What da fuck?!"
You get out of writing what you put in. If you don't put in much, you aren't going to get much out.
I've been writing, but not publishing (much) over the last couple years. My income has dropped because my readers aren't getting new stories from me. And it's no one else's fault but my own.
I'm trying to finish the multitude of stories I have started over the last two years. Granted, the month of April has been a total waste thanks to the hell flu, but I'm hoping I can stay healthy and finish a few things.
And if I don't get them finished and published, then I have no fucking reason to whine about not making money. Right?
I've been back to work for two whole days, and I haven't even written a thousand words. UGH!
This is why a lot of experienced writers counsel writing every day. And by experienced, I mean writers who've been doing this for twenty-five-plus years, and they can count the number of novels they've written in the mid-three figures to low-four figures.
So when I haven't been writing for two and a half weeks, it's going to take a while to get back in the groove.
If some major life event has happened to you, don't beat yourself up over the lack of productivity. That's only going to make you more reluctant to write again.
Just keep plugging away, a little more each day, until you're back to your old speed. Trust me, I've had to do this before, and I'll have to do it again. And I'm definitely NOT giving up!
I still have a mild, lingering cough from the bronchitis, and I'm still sleeping twelve-thirteen hours a day, but I feel remotely human for the first time in nearly three weeks. Last night, I actually managed to eat a couple of soft tacos for dinner without getting sick.
Believe me, as much as I love Greek yogurt, tapioca pudding and cereal, I was definitely ready for something a little more substantial.
DH has to work late today, covering for a co-worker on Pacific time. This morning, he made a Starbucks run and picked up breakfast sandwiches and coffee. So we hung out, ate, and watched Lost in Space on Cinemax. I love HBO free weekends!
(P.S. I totally forgot the fabulous Lennie James played Major West's wingman Jeb!)
So now, it's back to work--for the first time since April 7th. I have a vague memory of where I left off on writing Zombie Goddess and editing A Question of Balance. I'll need to scroll back through and re-read, and that will take time.
On the other hand, I'm coherent and alive, and thankful I can read. All the rest will sort itself out this week.
Yesterday was a very sucky day. I'm still fighting the lingering effects of the flu, but when I got up the passing of Prince Rogers Nelson was all over the news. I wanted it to be one of those false reports. I mean, look how many times Betty White has supposedly passed.
Already rumors are swirling, but here's the thing: when you get to a certain age, when you have chronic physical problems, the flu can be deadly. Especially if you're a workaholic.
I'm lucky. I have family that has no problem taking the computer away from me, and insisting that I rest. I doubt if Prince had someone like that. Someone willing to say no when he pushes himself too hard.
Next Monday, I'll be working. But it'll be hard to listen to my usual music without crying.
By the time everything was said and done last week, I had a combination of the flu, strep throat and bronchitis on top of my chronic conditions. And add to that, a bad reaction to the antibiotic my doctor proscribed. By Wednesday, I was begging my husband for assisted-suicide.
Needless to say, I wasn't on the computer for over a week. Luckily, things have improved to where I can sit up in my recliner, rather than lay down. My couple of hours upright was needed to fill out our local income tax return.
I don't know how far I'll get this week as far as writing and editing. I've got a ton of laundry to do, though DH tried to keep up on it last week though he had the flu, too. And it was supposed to be the poor guy's vacation.
As I said earlier this week, I've been splitting my time between writing Zombie Goddess and editing A Question of Balance. It's working well. I get up and write new words until lunch. I pick up Genius Kid from school and edit until supper, then work for a bit after dinner, depending on the night and what's on TV.
Hey, there's many ways to study story.
All this went well until we got a call from the school nurse at nine a.m. on Wednesday. GK was complaining about nausea and a splitting headache. By the time, DH got him home, he was running a temperature of 102F. Since acetaminophen wasn't doing the job, DH ran out to the store to pick up some chicken soup and ibuprofen.
Five minutes after DH left was when the puking started. The real problem there is that I'm a sympathy puker. So I handed a roll of paper towels to GK and hid in my office with the music cranked up. Otherwise, DH would have had two messes to clean up.
GK's fever still hadn't broken yesterday, so I wrote while GK tried to sleep off the bugs he'd brought home from school. On a good note, I was on a roll with ZG and didn't notice the time until five p.m. came around. It explained why I was really hungry.
But a little bit later, DH came into the living room, and I was coughing a little. We were supposed to go to the in-laws to pack up some stuff. I figured it was allergies since the trees are budding in Ohio. I didn't want things to get worse (my in-laws haven't been cleaning their house for some time), so I said, "Let's go over tomorrow."
An hour later, I was showing all of GK's symptoms.
Well, crap on a cracker.
As you're reading this, I might be working past the fever to get words in. More likely, I'm lying on the couch watching Supernatural. I don't feel like ruining my laptop if I can't keep food down.
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