It’s now the ninth of December, and whatever ailment that has kept me from doing anything meaningful is finally starting to wane. Thank you antibiotics! I was trying my best no to have to visit the physician, but come Sunday – a week after I started to become sick – and I could feel the junk building up in my chest. I knew that I had no choice but to go in and get myself checked out.
So my congestion is starting to clear up, I’m no longer coughing like a smoker hacking up a lung, and my voice is almost back to normal. It just sucks that I have to keep up the course of antibiotics until I’m done. Seven more days. Whoop-whoop! Now I can get back to what’s important and do nothing about writing until next week.
Well, not nothing. I’ve opened up my word file on Jasmine and I’ve started reading. I almost feel ready to tackle the second half of the book, rewriting what doesn’t work, and making the story a little stronger. I’m trying to make as few changes as possible because I quickly discovered what a fragile tapestry a story is. You pull one string and suddenly the whole narrative begins to unravel. It’s a little scary.
I’m going to sit back and start a little today. I work tonight and tomorrow night and then I will be back on days for good. I’ll be able to get into some loose rhythm, and maybe make some progress. At least that’s my hope. Then I’ll have a long weekend and I’ll head out of town, a trip that was beginning to look doubtful even a few days ago, and maybe I’ll feel relaxed and ready to tackle my goal.