Sickly Man! Whaaaat are you doing?
So, writing is for me not an easy task. Most of the time, that is. There are these rare, fantastic moments when everything comes together and I’m motivated and I’m feeling a story and it’s going places. But, most of the time, I find myself swinging the mattock of determination against the mortared wall of inertia. Sometimes the wall cracks and a story slips through. Sometimes the pick bounces off and comes whistling back at my face.
As long as I try, I’m happy.
Of course, there’s the occasional time when I’m not in any condition to write. Several years ago my dog died, and I was a dry well of words for months afterwards. More recently, I’ve discovered how hard it is to throw words onto a page when your body’s fighting off the plague-flu.
Which, I mean, sounds pretty pale in comparison. But it’s still an outside event that manages to slip in between me and my wall. It changes all my priorities from writing and work and getting stuff done to chicken soup and laziness.
Maybe I should see about getting writing reassigned to the ‘lazy stuff’ category. That way I could tell stories and relax. What a fantastic feeling that would be.
