For some reason, my body has been in revolt this year. I've been sicker these first two months than in the past two YEARS.
YEARS!!!
Right now my body composition is mostly nose spray. One spritz every four to six hours?
BAHAHAHAHAHAHA
You're so cute.
I spritz until I can feel air passing through my sinuses.
Still can't taste or smell anything, but by God! I can "breathe".
Two sinus episodes and one incredibly violent vomiting spell?
Color me done. The rest of the year best be anti-climactic.
Even though I feel like someone beat me, ran me over, and then beat me again, I've decided to work on the writing and querying. At somewhat of a crossroads on the third book. I think I've puzzled it out so that won't be banging around my cranium any longer.
Gathering up my notes and making sure I have everything together so I can piece and polish my words.
Got to thinking about writing while I was having some breakfast. It's not like I could taste my food so my mind started wandering again. I'm always writing. I think, perhaps, the only time I'm not writing is when I'm reading. If it's a good book, then I disappear into it with nary a thought to the outside world and my own stories. If it's a bad book, I throw it at the wall and don't waste my time.
But there's always SOMETHING. It could be that indefinable something that pricks at your subconscious until you recognize it. Or it could be that mystery meeting between characters that defines a scene. There's always something, isn't there?
Part of me wants to simply curl up with Rainbow Rowell's "Carry On". I've started it, and it's brilliant. But the so-called "adult" in me knows I need to bang out some words for my own stories. *grins*
And let's just say I'm glad that I can do this from home. At my desk. With my Einstein hair, pajama top, and bare feets.
Carry on, indeed.
Grins*
YEARS!!!
Right now my body composition is mostly nose spray. One spritz every four to six hours?
BAHAHAHAHAHAHA
You're so cute.
I spritz until I can feel air passing through my sinuses.
Still can't taste or smell anything, but by God! I can "breathe".
Two sinus episodes and one incredibly violent vomiting spell?
Color me done. The rest of the year best be anti-climactic.
Even though I feel like someone beat me, ran me over, and then beat me again, I've decided to work on the writing and querying. At somewhat of a crossroads on the third book. I think I've puzzled it out so that won't be banging around my cranium any longer.
Gathering up my notes and making sure I have everything together so I can piece and polish my words.
Got to thinking about writing while I was having some breakfast. It's not like I could taste my food so my mind started wandering again. I'm always writing. I think, perhaps, the only time I'm not writing is when I'm reading. If it's a good book, then I disappear into it with nary a thought to the outside world and my own stories. If it's a bad book, I throw it at the wall and don't waste my time.
But there's always SOMETHING. It could be that indefinable something that pricks at your subconscious until you recognize it. Or it could be that mystery meeting between characters that defines a scene. There's always something, isn't there?
Part of me wants to simply curl up with Rainbow Rowell's "Carry On". I've started it, and it's brilliant. But the so-called "adult" in me knows I need to bang out some words for my own stories. *grins*
And let's just say I'm glad that I can do this from home. At my desk. With my Einstein hair, pajama top, and bare feets.
Carry on, indeed.
Grins*
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