I know a fellow writer turning pro, I'll post about his work sometime in the near future. He got an agent, which in itself is a pretty good accomplishment. After a few months of waiting, his agent was negotiating with a big publisher where at least a few of the editors loved his work.
That's good news, soon to be followed by bad news. A week from last Saturday, he had a “minor” heart attack. It was somewhat fortunate, because it turned out he had a whole bunch of artery blockages. It's better than a "silent" heart attack, where a part of your heart dies without saying anything, and much better than a "loud" major heart attack. He's only 44, and is a health nut and martial arts expert. You talk about being struck just on the edge of success. He must have a very strong family history of heart disease to have that happen to him.
He went through his multi-bypass operation and is now recovering, but what a scare and ordeal. And no, I don't know what's happening with the book deal. He hasn't shared that.
Monday, July 29, 2013
Thursday, July 4, 2013
Depth
My mood slid this week. When I'm depressed, I don't talk to anybody. Speech seems to be the first thing that's suppressed. However, I can write, and seem to even write better when my mood is in the toilet.
However, there are exceptions. Writing was hard last week. I struggled to get through a scene, and I felt it took a thorough panning at my writers' group. I was so tired I couldn't even defend the installment. Others present might not have seen it as too bad, but for me, considering what I tried to do, it was torture.
I know I haven't written here much. My attention has been focused more on completing a list of tasks. Like, I donated some junk that had been cluttering up my place and my storage cubical. I sold my car for a bag of beans and a can of cat foot. With a partially blown engine, the car wouldn't sell for more than $100. I have to admit parting with it felt like a real step down. My hand shook so much I couldn't get the key off the ring.
Those are the kinds of things I've been doing. However, between those and writing, I've been neglecting physical activity, and I spend ninety-seven percent of my time alone. I don't have a psychiatrist or counselor right now, because the community mental health center I go to is between interns. They get rid of them every year and it takes 2-3 months to get any in. So, when I'm down, there's really not much support. And I'm having just as much trouble socially as I ever did. That part does depress me because it has never actually gotten better. There was a time that I tried harder, though, and regretted it.
So, I'm taking a break. I'd call it a vacation, but I'm not vacating anywhere. I'm replacing writing with exercise for a week, and for another week (if I can stand it) I'll probably be playing Civ, since that seems to raise my mood.
So, I'll come back to writing fiction two weeks.
However, there are exceptions. Writing was hard last week. I struggled to get through a scene, and I felt it took a thorough panning at my writers' group. I was so tired I couldn't even defend the installment. Others present might not have seen it as too bad, but for me, considering what I tried to do, it was torture.
I know I haven't written here much. My attention has been focused more on completing a list of tasks. Like, I donated some junk that had been cluttering up my place and my storage cubical. I sold my car for a bag of beans and a can of cat foot. With a partially blown engine, the car wouldn't sell for more than $100. I have to admit parting with it felt like a real step down. My hand shook so much I couldn't get the key off the ring.
Those are the kinds of things I've been doing. However, between those and writing, I've been neglecting physical activity, and I spend ninety-seven percent of my time alone. I don't have a psychiatrist or counselor right now, because the community mental health center I go to is between interns. They get rid of them every year and it takes 2-3 months to get any in. So, when I'm down, there's really not much support. And I'm having just as much trouble socially as I ever did. That part does depress me because it has never actually gotten better. There was a time that I tried harder, though, and regretted it.
So, I'm taking a break. I'd call it a vacation, but I'm not vacating anywhere. I'm replacing writing with exercise for a week, and for another week (if I can stand it) I'll probably be playing Civ, since that seems to raise my mood.
So, I'll come back to writing fiction two weeks.
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