A Good Story?

For the last couple of days, I've managed to get some work done on my Anthology story. I'm in a major overhaul after I had another writer/reader review it. I want a second edit when I get this done and for that, I've got two people lined up to edit it before it goes to the last round.

I really hate this story. Seriously. I've never written from the antagonist viewpoint before, not in this manner. The whole story is from his POV and it is really hard to write that way. 

It is so negative, too. I have been editing the other stories and they're pretty good. Some funny, some sweet, some happy. This is a black story and I feel a bit like a fish out of water. I don't know if anyone will like it either. I'm okay with that. My opinion is that all writing is a learning experience and not wasted. 

I'm probably going to be crucified in reviews. 

If so, I'm in good company. 

I want to write something else, now. I want to work on two other stories I have and get them finished. After this anthology is done, my plan (help me, God) is to structure my writing times again, as I did earlier this year before my life got derailed for the nth time. I found it was working really well and I'm itching to get back to that schedule. 

Why don't I do it now? Funny you should ask that. I'm am in the midst of a very bad fibro flare that won't seem to quit. Or I'm dealing with some severe sleep apnea. Yes, Chris, I called the sleep clinic and got someone this morning. They said they'd get back with me! Really. I've emailed my RA doctor and asked her to take care of it.

The fun part of this is I have a really cool cover.. not that I need it. We have a good photographer in the group who agreed to get cover shots. My story is only a short story and doesn't need a cover. This is just for my ego. 

Lost Gems

I'm looking for something on my thumb drives. They're filled with all kinds of old writting stuff. I ran across this one in the "short story" file. When I read it I laughed. It was written January 18, 2007. I vaguely remember getting some kind of prompt that led to this. I still write shorts from prompts because you never know when something good will jump onto the paper. This one was fun but is really horrible writing.

She drifted across the floor wearing a pink feather boa, the same color as the lemonade in her glass. It was so long it slithered along the floor behind her. She slid smoothly onto the piano bench next to me and placed a diamond-studded hand on my silk cuff. Her shoulder rubbed against mine, like some cat looking for a handout from the kitchen. The heat behind her jade eyes flamed like a Bunsen burner ,but they left me cold.

I looked into the mirror on the wall behind the piano. I could see the parakeet in the cage on the opposite side of the room, his beady eyes staring at us. The hibiscus in the corner seemed to glow in the gray room and I wondered how it could live in this gray cloud. It must be as fake as the smile on her face.

The rain was pounding on the roof. I stared at the mirror and it took on the quality of an old photograph tucked too long in a dark drawer. Its frame was a tarnished gold locket.

She whispered, “Do you have any good memories.”

Writing in the Storm

I've exceeded my goal for the anthology story. I can't believe that. A writer friend of mine read over the story and pinpointed some minor problems, inconsistencies, and cloudy issues that I have to fix so it is possible I'll get even words rather than less. I hope so. I've worked on edits and hope that I don't lose those. Well, I was until I got sick.

This week has been a writing wash. I've been battling a horrible cold. This is the third severe cold this year. Every one of them has knocked me down. Not just a little cold, a put me to bed, cough up a lung, smother me kind of cold. If I'm not much improved by Monday, I have to go to the doctor. The low white count is probably why I can't fight them off very well. How does one get a white count up? I haven't gone to the doctor already because they'll put me on antibiotics. I was just one a Z-pac in September during the last cold. Repeated rounds of antibiotics are very bad for an average healthy person. I'm not.

I felt so bad last night that I just suddenly started to cry, sitting on the sofa watching Dr. Who. I know... silly of me. But you'd have to be me. I am tired and sick, and tired of being sick. Anyway, I wiped my nose and asked God to get rid of this thing right away because I am exhausted and my body is just not doing what it needs to do. I went to bed and slept terribly. I coughed most of the night, waking a few times with a cough so bad I was nearly puking. Yes, I'm taking something for the cough, but it is not very effective.

I woke up exhausted but got Sarah off to school. I went back to bed and slept for several hours. The rest of the day is sort of a blur and I know I sat and read stuff online for a couple of hours. The good news is that by 3 p.m. I seemed to be improved. Although I'm still coughing and blowing my nose, the coughing is not ripping me open and breaking my ribs and the runny nose seems to be running out of stuff to drain. So, I'm hopeful that tomorrow will be better. I know, very cliche and optimistic.

Next week, they'll do the CAT scan to see how many nodules I have on my lungs. I don't know what happens after that. I hope there is only the one and they don't have to do anything to it. I can't think about that now. I have to get the writing done and the edits for the anthology. I'm nearly done with all of those. Two left and one of those is half done.

At the moment, I am in an unhealthy storm and writing is difficult. You can't very well type and hack over the keyboard. This cough is so bad that I'm doubled over. I haven't even blogged much... I don't think. To be honest, I can't remember.

I do try to write in the storms. I seem to have many of them. They've gotten worse, as well, but the writing, that can't stop.