Three weeks post-surgery, and I am trying very hard to get back into the swing of things. I have been out fishing with Mark, and caught my first one of the year: a very tiny trout. Mark caught a gobi, which is an invasive species that we typically throw to the seagulls. Tiny fish in both cases, but still…first of the year. I have also decided to take up hiking with Kevin, and am hoping to start that next week as I am going to be able to return to mostly full activity. I still can’t lift or bend, but I can walk as far as my legs will carry me. And then, there’s the writing…
I’m so stuck, in every aspect.
My novel, my baby, the one that’s going to make me that Netflix money someday, is stalled. I simply cannot envision the final scene of part one. I almost think I am sabotaging myself, because maybe I don’t want that part of the story to end. I keep reminding myself that I will come back to it in edits, and be able to add all sorts of details I didn’t have in the first draft. I tell myself that once part one is done, I can move on to part two, where the action really ramps up. This both excites and terrifies me. I haven’t written anything like this before, with murder and gunfights and secret plots. My last novel (well, novella,) was a simple tale about a woman with depression. That’s my wheelhouse. The current WIP, though…that’s a whole different ballgame.
Meanwhile I am discouraged with my poetry. It hasn’t been coming as smoothly as it usually does, and I haven’t received an acceptance in a while. Sales are down on my chapbook, although I am quite happy to report that you can now purchase a copy of A Lovely Wreckage at Dog Ears Bookstore on Abbott Rd. in South Buffalo, my favorite tiny bookshop. This all happened right before I got sick, so I wasn’t able to celebrate it much. And then there is Me and Jesus, which is stalled. I have emailed the publisher and am waiting to hear back. Finally, (Un)Requited, which is out at a few places and I am patiently waiting to hear back from someone. I feel like it isn’t going to happen, though.
Of course, I felt that way with A Lovely Wreckage, too.
I am sitting in my office and forcing myself to peck out some words because my blog is already a day late. I am kicking myself for that, but also reminding myself that while I do feel stuck, I am writing, even if its just in here twice a week. It’s like an exercise. It’s going to the gym, but for your brain.
Pretty soon I can eat food again. I miss it, I do, but not as much now as I did that first week. In a few months, I can eat whatever I want. In a few months, I can lift and bend again.
In the meantime, I shall drink my protein shakes and write in my blog and hope that the inspiration for a poem or chapter strikes, because I am ready, finally. My health seems to be at a place where I can get back to work on my projects, and I am very excited about that.
Of course, I am also very, very stuck.