Dragging Out Of A Writing Slump

Okay, so that idea of writing every 20 minutes didn’t go so well. I’ve seriously underestimated the broken ankle. I stopped taking the pain meds because they weren’t agreeing with me. It took about three weeks to clear my brain….I mean it. This last weekend was the most normal I’ve felt and I’m still broken. I ditched my teenage driver last week (too many grimaces and eye rolls) to tackle driving and errands. Drunk on freedom, fresh air and sunshine, I thought about bolting to Mexico. Instead, I over stretched my limitations and ended up a sloppy puddle. It took two days to recover.

Some will disagree with the idea that I’m a patient person. True, I have little patience for mean people, idiots, incompetence, small mindedness or reality TV. Ah…anyway, I’m a pretty patient person. I don’t have a lot of patience for being ill. Other folks, I can empathize, console and nurse…most of the time, particularly my kids. Me ill? Me incapacitated? Nope, nein, iie, nei. It’s not that I can’t rest and recuperate. I hate hoverers. You know, folks who hang around constantly trying to anticipate what you need. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate kindness and concern. I hate to be helpless. I hate to be dependent. I’m not good with impotence. I’m a decision maker, a doer.

There are times when hanging out in bed with movies is great, just not when it’s my only option. I’ve had some great ideas for new books. I’ve moved forward in the sequel to The Esau Emergence. I’m working with my wonderful, artistic cousin to launch her project for a children’s book. I’m looking forward to a couple of more speaking gigs. We have the book up on Story Cartel: review the book, win a prize. I’m going to roll around the NCW Writing Conference on my scooter. See, now that I’ve written this all down, I feel more productive already. I’m just done with this whole…..”I can’t leave the house without help”. 

I’m working on patience for myself. I’m growling frequently and the boys keep saying things when they leave like “Don’t run off.” The jokes about my lack of mobility are wearing thin. It’s all okay. This too shall pass. It’s been a month since I fell and though I’m discovering new shades of bruises every day, I’m still moving forward….metaphorically.