In The Blood

Yesterday I realised I wouldn’t be able to do NaNoWriMo this year because of my stupid crippled hands and god damn Rheumatoid Arthritis.  My brain heard this.  She disagreed.

The best way to get me to do something, to really commit to it, is to tell me I cant do it.  My inner Queen rises up and says BLOODY WATCH ME THEN YOU NEWT! Apparently, this includes self-talk.  Because today I woke up buzzing.  I had all this weird energy.  If you know me, you’d know I don’t wake up full of energy.  Usually, it takes me three days to wake up in the morning.  But I was buzzing. I raided my piggy bank, went and got the biggest Red Bull in the shop.  I downloaded John Mayer’s new album and almost before I’d fully agreed to it, I was booting up my laptop and writing.

There’s a joy in writing.  An excitement.  Do you smoke?  Cos it’s like that feeling when it’s been way too long since that last cigarette and everything in you is jumping and twitchy and yelling.  I haven’t felt it for a while.  Hence the quietness on this blog.  But I feel it now and you wanna know what it’s saying?  It’s screaming inside that I have a book in me.  Maybe this is the year I get it down on paper.  Maybe this is the month I have The Big Idea and get on with it.

Who knows?

But I ran into a friend the other day and she looked right into me and asked me: Do you still write?  Becuase you should.  I think you’re good. I want to see you writing.

So yes.  I still write.  I have a book I’m working on actually.

Watch this space.


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