Major major arthritis flare here over the past six weeks. The medications are just kicking in, so maybe I will be healthy enough to get some work done. It’s pretty annoying to have stories and a novel ready to be published and not have the ability to just get it DONE. Had an attack of uveitis this time, which made my vision go blurry for a week. Now that’s fun– especially when you’re already nearsighted. You get used to not being able to see at a distance, and then, pow! You can’t see up close, either.
Anyway, I am going to go back and change a few little details here and there, but the basic premise is that I have missed my self-imposed deadlines not due to laziness, but due to my body deciding that “You know, hey, self-destruction is a cool thing to do for the changing of the seasons.”
Which forcibly reminds me that I need to go back and re-read a couple of books that I have about being an artist, being an artist in sickness and in health, and how to cope with the whole shebang. I need a little pep talk– it’s seriously depressing to say “Yes, I will publish this by Valentine’s Day” and have it almost be Easter and the thing is still not done. This whole writing business was a lot easier when I was in my early 20s, before this disease decided to play hell with my life. Of course, everything was easier back then– that’s the reason all the middle-aged people look at young people and scream “ENJOY IT WHILE YOU CAN!” Time doesn’t change your inner self very much, and you certainly feel pretty normal mentally, but it does a real number on your physical self.
SO. To writing. One hopes. I’m trusting that this medication barrage will drive my inflammatory problems into hiding for at least a month or two. I usually get three good months out of it. So, cross your fingers, eh?