Warning: whine ahead. (Hopefully not cheesy.)
There’s a quote by Anne Tyler: “If I waited till I felt like writing, I’d never write at all.” While this quote is wildly accurate most of the time, it’s equally true that there are days that all I want to do is write. (And, of course, there’s my favorite writing quote, by Eugene Ionesco, “A writer never has a vacation. For a writer, life consists of either writing or thinking about writing,” which is pretty much entirely true.)
Lately, it seems I’ve been doing more “thinking about writing” than actual writing, due to stress, lack of time, lack of motivation, lack of energy…
And today is another of those days.
It started at work last night. My chest was getting tight, breathing was uncomfortable, and I started coughing.
Today is worse. Low fever, coughing, chest very tight and heavy, coughing, feeling like crap, coughing, headache… Did I mention coughing?
So, I called off from work. (Work is not happy. “We’re already short handed.” Sorry, but I’m hacking up a lung and feel like I’m ready to pass out. Not to mention that I’m freezing one minute and melting the next.)
I now unexpectedly have the day off.
And a month long to do list to tackle.
And stuff from the storage locker to get out of the front room. (Er, that’s probably not happening today unless my fever goes away.)
But I just don’t feel like doing any of it.
I think I’m going to have to “act as if” and fall back on the Louis L’Amour quote and “Start writing, no matter what. The water does not flow until the faucet is turned on.”