I want to write a story about this guy. Or at least one with him in it. I have the story in mind, and if life would just leave me alone for a few days, I could get it written fairly quickly.
After several months of struggling with ideas, I suddenly have too many of them, and I’m beginning to wonder if I’ll ever get them all written. Winning that short story contest makes me want to try my hand at more of them; studying non-fiction writing makes me want to try my hand at that.
These would be short pieces, not to interfere with Riding Herd, the sequel to Give the Lady a Ride. For the most part, I have my ideas for novels lined up and know which one is next. However, I took Corporate Ladder to my critique group last Tuesday, and the response was so good, it has put that one in my mind again. Among all the internal and external problems I’m having with it was one simple thought: what if I couldn’t follow up a serious novel with another serious novel? Well, I came up with two more excellent ideas, and now I’m anxious to finish that one too so I can move on to the next.
The course at the conference about writing for my denomination and the other about writing for magazines have me going too. If I could come up with good ideas for those, and write well enough for them to be accepted, I could expand my readership. It’s never a bad idea to get your name out there.
So, after a long dry spell, suddenly I’m overstimulated–too many ideas, too little time. I’m so excited, I’m literally shaking. Of course, that could be the drug I’m on too. Apparently I hurt my back yanking my book bag out of the trunk of my car the other day, and all my back muscles have decided to rebel. I’m okay, thanks to the drug, but the other night, I wondered if I was going to live to see any of my ideas land on the computer screen.
I’d gone to bed and was fast asleep when I turned, I guess, and awoke to incredibly sharp pain in my back. The more I struggled to get up, the deeper and broader the pain went. By the time I managed to get out of bed, all the muscles in the right side of my torso had cramped from my spine to my sternum. I’d been to the doctor earlier because of the pain and had pills that weren’t working, but what I experienced that night made the earlier pain seem like a mild headache. The muscle over my heart started cramping, and I thought I was having a heart attack. I couldn’t breathe very deeply, so I panted–or hyperventilated, according to my brother in law. I called him–our resident drug pusher (he’s a pharm rep)–to see if I could take a Tylenol on top the pills the doctor gave me. I very foolishly thought I could handle this at home. He insisted I call MSB and get to the ER.
I was lucky that someone answered the phone at the plant where my husband works, and someone was able to go get him. All I said was, “Honey, you need to come home,” and next thing I knew he was here. He’d been worried about me all day because of the earlier pain. He didn’t know what he was in for when he came home.
Anyway, long story short, we went to the ER, I got drugs, and now I either sleep all the time, or I’m so overstimulated I shake all the time. Coffee doesn’t keep me awake, and it certainly doesn’t help with the shakes, so my caffeine intake is severely limited. Dagnabbit.
If I could get some time alone to write, as revved as I am, I could whack out several short stories, a few more chapters in my novel, and probably work on the Bible devotion/study I’ve had in mind for a while. But added to today’s schedule of my mid-week Bible study, which I hate missing, is a wonderful lunch with a writer friend and a trip to the physical therapist. By the time I get home, I may not be revved anymore. I’m certainly not going to take any more medication to get me that way. Maybe afternoon coffee . . .