I'm sick which is not the way to start the new year. Some sort of flu and I can hardly stir from bed. I have moments of no fever and lucidity and then the chills rush in, bed beckons and I sleep again. I can't speak - which my husband says is a blessing. Nor can I write - which is frustrating. But no point trying, I can barely remember the plot of my current story. 40,000 words in and I'd guess 30,000 more to finish it, but that's a big guess. Though I've reached the point that I'm already dreaming of new stories. Two twirling in my head though fuelled by my flu soaked brain, they will likely come to nothing.
And just because I like to add a picture. This is the view from my house. Wet, wet, wet. There shouldn't be a pond there. It's just a field.
4 comments:
I've been down with the flu for two weeks now. I completely sympathize with the annoyance of being unable to write.
Hope you are feeling better soon.
Sorry you're sick. Maybe it'll lead to the great dystopiam pandemic novel you've always wanted to write.
Hi Barbara! I'm so glad to have found your blog ~ you have a really impressive body of work! I hope you're on the mend, and I'm glad you're able to rest. Dreary days are sort of nice that way in that they don't beckon you outside.. Feel better soon. :)
Thank you, guys!
If only,Fred! Pandemic indeed!
Bebe, it's true,I'm not even tempted to go out!
Joe, two weeks!! Good grief. I have a way to go yet then. You get well soon too!
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