A Thousand Words

I'm so excited! Today was a great writing day. Suddenly I had this urge to work on an old piece and I did 1000 words in a couple of hours. It is amazing how energized you when you have a moment like that.  I'd be overjoyed to have it every day.

This morning I got Sarah off to school but got slammed almost immediately with fatigue. I sat down in the recliner with the idea I'd read a few minutes and then I'd be good to go. Not so. A few minutes and I knew I was far to gone to just read. I went to sleep for two hours. I was so annoyed and when I woke up I was basically drunk. No, not literally. I could barely walk on my feet because they hurt, my balance was way off (this is a typical symptom of RA), and it took a good 30 minute to "sober up." I was relieved it was only 10:30 but still, I could have used the two hours to work on the boxes of things I still need to sort.

I got up and got dressed and took care of some calls I had to make and organized the boxes to some degree so I can walk through the den. I can see I'm making progress but it is too SLOW! I was at the computer writing by 11:30 a.m.

I am pleased with the results. I went back over some things I knew after writing today would need to be changed. I would love to sit down and do a full outline of the story I have written and finish the last few chapters. I could do a rush ending now... I'm not happy with that idea,  but I could. I even have a potential ending already written. I dreamed it one night some time ago. LOL, I don't like the ending  because it isn't actually a happy one. I could change it, but I haven't decided to do so. I was just so happy to have two productive writing hours, I don't really care at this point.

After months of struggling to write even a third of what I did today and feeling as if I was barely making headway, imagine how it feels to get 1000 words in one sitting!

Now, if tomorrow and Saturday are as productive!

Writing Pains

Courtsey Pixabay.com

I had great plans for writing this week. Last week really a good week for me physically although I didn't write as much as I wanted. I'm still in the throes of disorder from the ceiling repair and getting rid of the computer desk. So, it has been an unproductive week thus far.

I began it with plans but as usual, chaos dropped by and got me off track. The brakes went out on the car. Finally got those fixed yesterday.

This week has been beautiful, with cooler temperatures and sunny skies. Usually, the rheumatoid arthritis is less bothersome this time of year but I seem to be following the same course I've been on all summer. I've had a lot of pain in my hands and my neck and back have been troubling me. I finally put on a patch last night to help my neck. I had to get up and put Pennsaid solution on my hands so I could sleep. They hurt terribly and I could tell the joints in my palms were swelled. This is actually the back side of your knuckles, but you don't usually notice them... unless you're typing or holding a book.

I'd like to find solutions or work out a plan of action that would get me writing more with less pain. I often end writing sessions with neck, back, shoulder, and hand pain higher than when I started. This has a blocking effect on me and triggers avoidance. I don't want to write when my neck hurts, or my hands, or my back because, by the time I'm done I'm so bad that my sleep is affected, which in turn, increases pain levels. So, very little writing is accomplished.

I spent most of yesterday unpacking things that I packed up when I got rid of the computer desk. I don't actually have a lot of places to put the stuff and am going to look for something to replace the storage, something far smaller than that desk. I've already tossed a lot of things, so that helps, too.

I've also been reading a couple of books, one loaned to me by a friend titled Writing the Fiction Series by Karen Wiesner. It is really a good book and it isn't heavy as some of the writing books I've read. The information is clear and concise. There are several appendices in the back so the book itself isn't very long. I'm nearly through with it. I tried to read a couple of other books. I'm usually reading three or four at a time these days. One is Fiction Writer's Workshop by Josip Navakovich. I'm going to order this book. It seems really good but not a book you can sit and do in a few days. There are lots of exercise and information that needs digesting.  I got this at the library and it has to go back now, so I'm going to buy my own copy.

I know that my greatest problem is making myself write when I'm having a lot of pain. Focus and fatigue is a problem when I'm in a flare. I've been in this particular flare for over a year and so, I've had more problems with focusing and fatigue. From May through July I was forced to take naps for up to two hours a day in addition to sleeping 6-7 hours a night.  I couldn't do anything worthwhile. Reading, writing, and pretty much anything that required me to think was impossible most days. That has gotten better.

This morning I was up at 5:30 thanks to Sarah. She has a bad dream and woke me up. She went back to sleep. I did not. So I got up at six and had coffee until time to get her up. Afer she went to school I finished unpacking a box and sorting through some photos I plan to scan for family.

Now, I'm going to consider what I want to do the rest of the day. I need a  nap and it is just 10 a.m.! The yard must be cut and it looks as if it might rain. I have some stuff to write down before I forget it. I need to work on putting laundry away. Good grief, the laundry never stops!

It Takes Time

Flubbed It!

Yep, I flubbed it. I got 9 days in and the roof literally fell in. If you've followed along on Life on the Ledge you know I've had ceiling problems, in addition to others. That took two weeks to resolve. So, writing any story was nearly impossible.

I also had to go to Arkansas the last week of July to pick up my granddaughter and bring her home. I was gone a week. I had expected to write then too, but there was simply too much going on.

Now, the room is fixed and repainted and she was happy with the changes. The electrical problem is fixed. We got back on Friday.

But I flubbed it.

It wasn't a total loss, in my opinion. No writing is wasted and I learned some things.

1. Writing short stories, even short shorts, is harder than novels most of the time.
2. Thirty short stories in 30 days is probably impossible. But I'd like to try it again.
3. Never try to write 30 short stories in a crisis.
4. Taking my own challenge and writing the stories I managed to write inspired me and made me feel better about myself as a writer.

So, I've designed a button for myself to put on my blog. I am not ashamed of my failure. In reality, it wasn't a failure. I learned a lot. I had fun. All but that ceiling part. That wasn't fun.

Feel free to use the shorts photo if you too flubbed. If you happened to complete 30 shorts in 30 days, you can have this one.

30 Days of Shorts - Day 8: One Day in the Park

Every day she came and sat on the bench beneath the oak tree at the edge of the playground, ate her lunch, and watched the children play. No one sat with her. No one intruded. It was as if she had this wall around her that kept everyone out. She never spoke to anyone or sat anywhere else. The only days she didn't show up was when it rained or the temperatures were too cold to allow children to play outside.

It was June and the weather was usually nice this time of year. She must have come early today. When she finished her lunch, she sat back, crossed her ankles, folded her hands in her lap and with a small smile, she watched the half dozen children clamber over monkey bars, swings, and spin on the merry-go-round. They screamed and yelled and giggled, but she just kept smiling.

I'd watched her for several years now and I knew no more about her today than I had when I'd first seen her one hot August day. She never seemed to notice me. I don't remember what drew my attention but after a few weeks of seeing her, I found myself trying to figure her out. Weeks grew into months and months into years. I still hadn't figured her out.

A friend of mine asked me once, after I'd told them about her, why I didn't just walk over and talk to her. I couldn't explain it to them. I just said I couldn't do that. I wasn't embarrassed, well maybe I was a little, but that wasn't it. There was something about her, something... that felt fragile or... oh, I don't know. That wall I sensed, maybe it was more like a bubble, a glass bubble, that would shatter in a million pieces if I approached it or touched it. So, as she watched the children with a smile, I watched her with a frown.

Today was a rotten day. Most days, like the lady on the bench, I was just here to enjoy my lunch. Today, it lay unopened on the seat next to me. It didn't matter if I ate it or not. I'd lost my job and there was no rush to get back to work. So, I just sat there and stewed and fumed over the unjustness of the universe. I'd worked so hard to get that job. It had taken me ten years to reach upper management and in less than two, I was canned. I still didn't know why they fired me.

Oh, they had all the right phrases to hand me. They said it was the economy. They said I was talented and they hated to lose me. They said they'd give me a great reference. Sadly, my job was zeroed and I had to go.

I sighed and watched the children going down the slide. They laughed out loud and cheered their friends and slapped them on the back for their success at conquering the mountain. Today they had no worries. Today they could enjoy the freedom to spend the day in laughter with friends. Someone would feed them, shelter them, and kiss them goodnight. They'd enjoy worry-free security.

Something else was different today. The lady on the bench was absent. Of course, I was early so perhaps I'd just beat her here. That rarely happened on days like today. I looked around the park. There were lots of mothers seated on benches or on blankets on the ground. A few brought lounge chairs and were reading with their children nearby. She was nowhere to be seen.

I got up and walked around for a few minutes, never losing site of her bench. She should be here by now. I ran my hands through my already disastrous hair. I rubbed them on my skirt and crossed my arms. I walked back to my bench and sat down on the edge, clutching it on each side of me so tightly that my fingers hurt.

I relaxed them. I was overreacting. I was way early. She'd show up any minute, walking sedately to her bench where she'd sit down very carefully. She'd open her bag and take out her sandwich and eat it while watching the children. She'd sip her water.... I got up and walked a dozen yards and came back.

Where was she? She had to show up today. I stared at the toes of my shoes. Why was this even an issue? What did I care if some strange woman came to the park?

To be continued.......