Sorry I haven't posted recently, but I've been house-bound for nearly a week now thanks to the flu. At least I think it's the flu. Mostly I'm just exhausted, with sinus fun to complete the picture. But I haven't had a fever spike in two days and today is slightly better than yesterday, so I do think I'm (slowly) mending.
It's tough to be so tired. I don't know how the chronically ill manage! I haven't been able to read much, let alone write on my second novel or brainstorm my next script. I haven't generated any new query letters or been able to sit down and play the piano for more than 15 minutes, and that rather poorly.
It all makes me grateful knowing that I will get better, that this shall pass, and that my usual vigor will return. I'm a bit impatient, but am trying not to overdo things and relapse. It's a struggle not to give in to the feeling of uselessness and lumpiness being sick brings on. I keep thinking that I serve no purpose, that I'm not contributing, that I'm not creating.
But sometimes I guess you just have to lie still.
So that's what I'm doing. Within the next day or two I hope to be back at the keyboard, working on a story.