The Three Hundred and Eighty-Seventh Post: The One I Might be Composing from the Bathroom Right About Now…

I’ve read a lot of books on writing. I’ve gotten a lot of advice and some practical tips on structure, plotting and description. I feel as if I could write my own book (“Confessions of a Writer: I Don’t Know What the Hell I’m Doing, Either! A Beginner’s Guide” by R. K. Clark). The first two bits of writerly advice I would put up would be some of the few bits of advice born out of experience:

  1. Stay Healthy! For pity’s sake…this one is easy. Try not to die before a deadline. Get plenty of sleep. Eat healthy(-ish). Stay hydrated, and by hydrated, I don’t mean watering down your bourbon. See a doctor if you get ill. Which leads into my second piece of advice…
  2. If You’re Sick, Rest!  This is another piece of advice that sounds really common, but you’d be surprised.

The only reason why I bring this up is because I was sick recently (last weekend). Apparently, I found the one cow that, before getting a bolt through his head, stood up on his hind legs, raged against the heavens and shouted, “FROM HELL’S HEART, I STAB AT THEE!

Because, brothers and sisters, he raged all the way through my body.

I took a day off work since I did not feel good enough to work, which people will tell you, means I am close to death. As I woke up Monday morning, I thought: ‘I can work on my novel. I won’t have any problems or interference. I can crank out a page or two. I have the will to work.’

My stomach violently objected, feeling that my work can wait a day. So, I collapsed on the couch (please extend your wishes for wellness to my couch) and watched a couple of shows I had waiting on my DVR – ghost shows so that I can say that I was researching for my novel. I rested, didn’t think about anything but convincing myself that I could eat bananas and dry toast three times a day. I felt bad because I wasn’t working. I furiously chewed on my banana snack, convinced that I could work through this misery. I tried to channel my inner Stephen King-like work ethic.

I took a nap.

I woke up thirty minutes later with a bit of a realization: I can miss a day and not feel bad about not working. Yes, I am on a bit of a deadline in that I want to have this book on the shelves by October. However, If I don’t take care of myself this book won’t get out at all. So, I rested and watched a little TV. Today, I’ll get back on the stick and write as much as I am able. I can get back onto the hardcore schedule in a few days.

Some of you may be asking why am I writing about this?

As a lot of readers know, I have a very obsessive personality. I will latch onto something and ride it to the point of self-harm. I could have written. I could have pushed myself, but I also knew that I would be erasing those words later, undoing all that work and getting madder for not putting forward my best effort that day.

So, I rested.

You should rest, too. As the song lyric says: “let the world turn without you tonight”.

2 thoughts on “The Three Hundred and Eighty-Seventh Post: The One I Might be Composing from the Bathroom Right About Now…

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