‘Scuse me, can I be excused? I seem to have the plague…’

Once upon a time there was a girl who had the plague.

Flu season seems to have been really wicked this year and this will be the second time that I’ve caught something. It’s still in the early stages so I still might be able to nip it in the bud, but everything hurts and everything aches.

If I breathe too deeply my chest tightens up and I’ll end up coughing for the next half hour. I’ve also got a fever that keeps coming back whenever I think I have it vanquished for good. If I die, give my electronics to Amy with the condition that she also takes care of my cat.

Being sick is miserable and every body knows it. When that heaviness settles into your bones and you can hardly find the energy to do the work you need to, never mind the extra work that you promised you would. My personal novel has already been put on hold for the next week or so and I’m going to try my hardest to pull the final chapter of my work related project out of my ass so I can hand that in. Once I’m done with that, I think I’ll be able to breathe a lot easier.

Maybe then I’ll be able to rest in peace.


One thing I’ve been talking about with people in terms of writing is that it’s important to pull from what you’ve known and what you’ve experienced. If you’re writing about someone who is dying of the plague for instance, it’s good to have an idea or remember what it’s like to have been incredibly sick. While you don’t need to be on death’s door, I think one of the important things about being a writer is to use your experiences, but not use them exclusively.

After all, I’ve never died so writing about someone who is dead could be a problem.

But if you take your experiences with your own illnesses and the deaths of others in your life, you can expand and build upon them. Day dreaming is an essential part of my day, but I haven’t had as much time to dedicate to it recently. Maybe I can spend fifteen minutes before I go to sleep just sending my mind to wonderland and I’ll have some incredibly tripped out dreams over the night.

Like the ones about being trapped in a mine or running through a hospital that is vaguely Silent Hill-esque.

Since I draw from my dreams and nightmares a lot when I’m writing, it can only help my case.

But for now I’m going to lie down before I cough up a lung.