I am so behind when it comes to my word count. Why is this story kicking my ass so hard? Why won’t the debris, the fog, the miasma clear and let me see the story path? These three girls are challenging me on every side. Do I not have a handle on them? I know November is the month from hell with the L.A. Music Awards this week and Thanksgiving planned for Wednesday rather than the traditional Thursday week after next, but there have been some breaks as a few things have been cancelled: Rock-a-thon for one (May His name forever be exhaulted!) and we’ve put off grading the Fall Writing Assessment until December. HOL profs have extended homework deadlines; hell, one of them is even a writing buddy. Still this story is really making me work for satisfaction and I am getting little.
As I was cranking out my lesson plans for tomorrow, what nails me right between the eyes…er, in the eye? A Migraine! WTF! As soon as the aura hit and I started seeing the scintillating scotoma over my right gaze, I knew the anxiety of the last few days was the result of the podrome. Stress, what a bastard! I was at school and so figured I would have to go to my daughter’s house to wait the aura to pass, but I had so much to do for the next day, I decided to soldier on. It was good for a laugh as I tried to write instructions on the board. Luckily the numbness that usually shows up waited a bit longer than usual to make its presence felt—or not felt as the case may be and then it centralized itself in my right hand…luckily after I’d finished writing my instructions! I made it about a half an hour down the road before the pain hit, by that time I had taken some over the counter Migraine meds…nearly useless but usually enough to take the edge off. It did take the edge. Picture a wave, a big wave, and skim about a foot and a half off the top, the rest is on you. Oddly it came from the front this time and just sorta enveloped me real slow. I figure that’s what poison is like and plan to describe it in my journal for some future death in some future story.
I got home, got something to eat and I’m now going to take a long hot shower and try to sleep it off. My mother-in-law is coming at 05:45 tomorrow morning for the L.A. trip. Gods, I hope she doesn’t want me to drive. This is all the writing I’m going to do tonight. No two hours or 2k today. Hell, I’ve yet to get “2k a day” since NaNoWriMo started, and right about now, I could give a shit.
Originally posted in The Salamander’s Quill 1.0 now deleted.