January 13, 2009 § Leave a comment
My arm and shoulder hurt when I type or use the mouse; my vague and flickering RSI has flared into something more serious, and I may have to stop this blog. I don’t want to. I’m just starting to feel comfy here, in this writing that is most like ‘a message in a bottle’ as anything I’ve ever done. I always loved that idea as a child, and would look earnestly for bottles whenever I was by the ocean. The idea of stopping working on my novel, as well, for any length of time makes me teary and panicky–how will I earn any money? To write popular fiction quickly is the only plan I have.
The pain keeps moving. I think that’s not unusual, from the little amount of research I’ve been able to do. Philip was scoffing at my distress last night. He thinks it’s the pain; he’s always in pain. Yeah, I and I have been too, many years of my life. I don’t care about pain, per se, not a moderate amount of it. It’s the idea that it might get worse and worse ; it’s the idea that I have to stop writing right now, if I’m *sensible*, and somehow not mind desperately losing that wonderful thrill I had last week, writing so much (not tons of hours, just quickly).
Later–well, I worked on my novel today anyway, in short bursts. Got 7 pages done. I’m in pain. But I’ll probably write tomorrow. This is all so sudden, I can’t help thinking it will go away, that it’s underlying stress, fear of drinking/not drinking, fear of the anger I hide by drinking. I’m sure that contributes, as does being sedentery for a few weeks, but I still think I have to face the medical system again. sigh. I’d hoped not to for, oh, years maybe…(months, anyway).