Feeling mighty sorry for myself. According to the physiotherapist who looked at my new x-rays, Lumbar decompression surgery is the only treatment. He also didn't hold up much hope for my neck, and my doctor tut-tutted when she looked at xrays of my hands and recommended a surgeon.
I used to think the nanosecond was the amount of time for the traffic lights to turn green before the Italian in the car behind beeped you. Now I realise that it is, in fact, the amount of time it takes for your cat to sit on the fresh, clean, straight off the line laundry.
Trying very hard to concentrate on finishing WIP... trying very hard to avoid thinking about re-writing (completely) my last book... trying very hard to get some sleep... But Brexit worries are stopping everything!
My husband's theory about why my M/S hasn't found an agent yet is because in my 'world' telepathic communication between species is the norm. He thinks, if only the main protagonist has this power, agents might like it more. Sounds clichéd to me.
I finally have the house to myself... so I can write undisturbed... and I can't think of a thing I want to write! It all seems pointless and I'm feeling talentless and sorry for myself... I know this feeling is temporary and all writers suffer from this self doubt dis-ease from time to time... but it feels HORRID!
No creative writing (since a flurry after Pete's input the other day), but I have produced a 10cm high pile of photocopies & original documents to support my application for French residency. (Just mine, 3 more to go) that's nearly one ream of paper = 6% of a tree.
Just realised that in my latest re-write I put every scene with a particular secondary character into what is, effectively, a flash forward (without even thinking about it). Now I realise that I've completely buggered up the whole thing. Sigh!
Received another email from a producer friend in Hollywood. She's asked to see re-write, determined to help me... (she already like the last version and had suggested similar changes to @AgentPete's) so fingers crossed... she's proposing to talk to contacts at Penguin, & Orion films about it (not the constellation). Now all I need is an agent! Having said that... NOTHING may come of it, but one can but dream.
Another reason for backing off writing for a while has been a series of odd symptoms with my right eye. So yes I'm getting Glaucoma, and yes I have Posterior Vitreous Detachment. Not painful, and nothing to be done about it. But I have been freaking out for a couple of months and I have a terrible incapacitating fear of 'opthalmos' (as they call them here in France). I suppose it could have been a worse diagnosis
My entry for the Flash Club is the first thing I've written for ages. I have been feeling crushed by life, desperate about our lack of financial security and the latest near misses with agents, (of the "Sorry, it's very good, but just not for us at the moment" variety). But thanks to Litopia, I might just claw my way back out of the pit.
Today I was befriended by an Afghani refugee in Paris (we have the lady, Danika, who I wrote my short story about, in common). He said I was "glorious". When I said, "no, you're very sweet, but I'm not glorious", he answered "You are really and perfectly glorious, because you are mother." My first reaction was to think he must miss his mum so much, and secondly... I wish my kids would see me that way!
Kicking myself for being so needy. I think now that I shouldn't have posted Virtual Reality on the writing group just yet. I'm sure my neediness comes from my lack of confidence as a writer (coming from an education in visual arts and not writing). VR is only my 2nd piece... Note to self: I must give it more time before asking for approval/advice from Litopians. Thank you for your tolerance <3
You still want me to read 'A Field Of Bodies' the way it is now or do you want to tweak it a bit. Considering you've got excellent advice as always from @Carol Rose, @AngryPI and Fellow Writers :)
Having a slight panic. The novel I started a while ago and I thought was going to be about one thing, seems to be going off on a completely different tangent. Don't know whether to rein it in or go with the flow. Either way, it's going to be a tricky book to write.
Difficult to concentrate when we have another terrorist attack in a village just down the road. Meanwhile the university, where I hope my son will go in September, was the scene of violent racist clashes last night. Meanwhile, Litopians have come up trumps and helped me a lot with the deep pov.