The Writer Of Flesh Strikes Again

Does anyone else out there sometimes have trouble remembering they live in a body? No? Only me?

Well, I do have that problem. Sometimes it’s really big and in your face as problems go. Like the first time an agent wanted to see all of my manuscript and I decided I had to fix it from the inside out. At the same time, my son, Marsh, was in charge of feeding pre-school fish. We were supposed to go up every day and feed the fish. Let’s just say that his whining, pleading and begging didn’t get through to me until the work was done. And then I REMEMBERED. Let’s just say those fish were called “Schrodinger” fish for the longest time. While running to the school, kid by the hand, I wondered if the fish were waves or particles… er… I mean, dead or alive. They turned out to be alive, but, you know, I didn’t know fish could look so HAPPY to see you. No, seriously.

There have also been times when I’m on the home stretch of a novel and everything finally looks right, and I’m coasting on it, and I finish it and realize I’ve been working for twenty four hours, and can’t remember if I’ve eaten.

What is this a propos de? Well… this book that was due in October has been delayed mostly because of the stupid body. Sometime at World Fantasy I caught what I thought was “perfectly normal” con crud. Only once I kicked it (about a week) I got to work for about a week, and then it came back. I’d think it was something permanent and specific to me, only I know a bunch of people who have been doing the same, including my family.

The problem is this. If you work in an office, yeah, you drag yourself in, you work. In those one or two days a month you can’t do it, you stay home in bed and watch soaps.

This is fine. I know that Victorian ladies of my age spent most of their time being invalids, and I know the reason – I think. On the shady side of forty is when we first realize we are no longer the energizer bunny.

I do try to force myself to work. I even manage to, sometimes, but here is the problem. I’ve now finished this book – A Fatal Stain – twice. Only the first was wrong, and the second was profoundly wrong.

Why you ask? Well, because it’s a funny light book. Now, when I’m feeling like this – and this illness isn’t bad, and it’s more attenuated every time it visits. It’s mostly tiredness. GREAT tiredness, stomach upset, mild upper respiratory – it’s easy to push through on tragic work, or even serious one. But light hearted and funny? No. That takes being “in the voice.”

I wasn’t those first two times. Worse, every time I get sick for however many days, when I come back I need to work up to the voice again. Which when you feel tired and still out of sorts is kind of hard to do. Then I hit the voice, get into it, fix/work/write a good chunk… and the next day I wake up half dead. And if I force it then, the plot twists under my fingers. Let’s just say neither child kidnaping nor people burning alive are funny, okay, and be done with it.

So that brings us to today. I’m this (holds up fingers) close and thought I’d have finished it this week, only Tuesday I was feeling so so, so I went for a walk to wake up and er… Yesterday I did nothing but sleep.

Today I feel like I could go for a walk. Yeah, I hear you yell “Don’t do it Sarah!” I won’t. I’m going to have some more coffee, then sit down and try to finish this. I THINK I can do it by close of business tomorrow. I hope so, as I’d like to go up to Denver on Saturday and hit the museums and stuff.

So, what I want you to do is to keep good thoughts coming in my direction, so that I don’t have to struggle with the stupid body and can actually get done this time.

Think, think, think. :)