Being Sick

Being sick sucks. . .period. There is nothing that aggravates me more than catching some sort of funk. Last time I was sick was more than five (yes five!) years ago when I got some stomach bug. The years since then, nothing, not a cold, not even a sniffle.

And now. . .for the first time in over 20 years I have the flu. . .yup, the god damned flu. I haven’t gotten a flu shot in over 25 years, and now suddenly I am raging sick.

I DON’T HAVE TIME FOR THIS SHIT!         

I have too much to do. I can write for a little while, but then I have to get up. . .I have no focus – look a squirrel – Like I said, being sick sucks.

I hate everybody.

And the medication the doc put me on. . .well it has psychotic side effects – look a pink polka-dot squirrel - So now I am seeing dragons in the kitchen and werewolves in the hall. Stellar! Look a purple and blue striped squirrel – They can stay. . .but that god damned bogyman in the foyer that looks like a clown needs to go!  

SQUIRREL!!!

Oh look, there goes a lion. . .no, wait. . .that’s live; just my ginormous kitty Zeus. He’s a wrecking ball of a cat – squirrel – I’ve never seen a cat that big that wasn’t a Maine Coon. Just a little ol’ barn cat with no known parentage to speak of – squirrel  –  Maybe he’s part mountain lion. . .we do have those around here. I mean, he is three times the size of my dog. But then again my dog is the size of a gnat – did you just growl at me you furry brat?

SQUIRREL!!!      

SEE! NO FOCUS!

And I need to write. . .so here I am spending four hours for this little blog. Did I mention there is a minotaur in my closet? This medication just might be more fun than drinking – squirrel.

My head is going to explode. Maybe I should just vegetate in front of the idiot box.

But first, I have to get rid of that bogyman. . .where the hell is my claymore. . .

-- Rya

Dealing with Writer's Block

For a week, I’ve sat here staring at a chapter I haven’t looked at since 2011.  I’ve got notes all over it.  “Need to expand this.”  “What does this mean?”  “Move this somewhere else.” 

Expand to what?  What does that bit mean?  Move it where?

A whole goddamned week.  What is the deal here?

Today I’ve read the same sentence over and over and my brain has turned to guacamole.  Guacamole is mush.  Awful-tasting mush.  That being said, I’d really like some Mexican food tonight for dinner.  No, I have spaghetti to make…or I could just go to Wegman’s to get some Chinese.  Oooh, egg rolls.

FOCUS, dammit!  See what I mean?  Get back to the stupid chapter!

Sigh.  Okay, this isn’t that hard.  It’s only 6 pages, for cripe’s sake.  I flex my fingers, look out the window, and…oh, look, the bird feeder’s empty.  Is that pileated woodpecker back again?!  Hot damn, I need more peanuts down there!  Did I buy any today…?  Dammit, I didn’t get woodpecker nuts.  Nuts.  Do I have any more peanut M&Ms over there?

Shit.  There I go again.  

There are three things I need in order to get myself into what I call "The Zone."  The Zone is my place of motivation, the push-button combination to unlock the Swiss Bank Account vault that is my wealthy stash of imagination.  It is sometimes a bitch of a place to find, but I do know how to look for it.  I need these objects, and a little bit of luck.

1.     FOOD

I keep talking about food, so I must need a snack.  That’s one way to keep your mind motivated, people – feed it.  So excuse me while I go grab a nibble…

(minutes pass)

Okay, I’m back with a cup of hot tea (with lots of Jack Daniels, natch), and a bowl of grapes and tangerine sections.  (I don't have any more M&Ms, so let's settle for Healthy Eating.)  

Back to work.  (taps fingers on keyboard) Okay, we’ve got dragons in an alternate realm.  Dragons falling from the sky and becoming…ow, is this a seed in this tangerine?  (taps some more) 

Nothing.  I’ve got nothing.  But I do notice I’m tapping my fingers a lot.

2.     MUSIC

When you’re as easily distracted as I am, you need two things from the musical realm: 

An awesome set of headphones.  Mine are the wonderful Bose QuietComfort 15 AcousticNoise-Canceling variety, terrific for blotting out screaming neighbors, ringing telephones, and my husband's TV show, and allowing me to turn up my music to stratospheric heights without disturbing people on the West Coast.

A magnificent playlist.  Nothing to sing; all instrumental.  I can’t sing and type at the same time because I’ll type out all the song lyrics instead and King Arthur will be belting out “Y.M.C.A.” by the Village People and Rya will wonder what the fuck I’m smoking when I turn these chapters over to her to read.  

The Knights of the Round Table can't be doing this...it would be hilarious though...

So for me, it’s soundtrack music.  Inspirational and awesome.  I have a 95-track list full of Hans Zimmer, John Williams, and John Barry – masters all, the jewels in my triple crown of imagination-filled tunes.  Oh, I have others, but nothing inspires quite like these guys. 

3.     QUIET.

No texting.  No phones.  I’m so easily diverted from the task at hand that the simple noise of a cat running down the hall with a toy will break me out of concentration and I’ll be left staring stupidly at the screen wondering what the hell I was trying to say.  Hence my side notes like “What does this mean?”  Fuck if I know…(hits delete button).  Knowing my luck I'll remember around midnight or 2am, but it'll be too late by then.

Sometimes, I enter The Zone without knowing about it, and my fingers develop a life of their own; 20 minutes later, I sit back and rub the ache out of my overheated, twisted digits, and stare at my cerebral vomit on the screen.  My response is always the same:  “Where the hell did that come from?” And unlike real vomit, the chunks are pure magic - at least they are in our little world.  

I really need to be there right now.  I’m fortified with natural sugar and enough alcohol to send my neural net tripping into the void, my headset is in place and switched on, Hans Zimmer’s score to “Inception” is cued.  “Need to expand this,” eh?  Fine.  One way ticket to The Zone, please, Maestro. 

--Rebecca