The great thing about having rheumatoid arthritis is that I learn something new–almost every day.
Today, for example, I learned that it is possible to get isolated fever in the heel of one foot and the ball of another at the same time. I also learned that my Fred Flintstone feet suddenly have more curves than Marilyn Monroe.
Whoda thunk it?
I can’t walk today. I’m sort of dragging myself around only for mandatory things such as coffee and voiding coffee.
So: Plot twist. No work for me today, even though I have piles of stuff to-do sitting on my desk. No work for me even though I have calls to make, people to chase down, lists to put together, things to type, and supplies to order. No shopping for me even though I’m dangerously near to being out of coffee and coffee creamer. These are two things that, along with dog food and cat food, I MUST, MUST, MUST always have in the house. Toilet paper, I’ve discovered, is definitely desired, but not mandatory since, in a pinch, other paper products can fill its space.
But coffee? Coffee creamer?
There are no substitutes.
Since I can’t do housework today (oh, darn), I can at least spend some time in the cat’s head again. The novel, while not exactly “ticking along,” is definitely moving along. Slowly. As if it were moving toward coffee despite its best intentions to stay perfectly still.
I hit 28,000 words a couple of days ago.
It’s a story of an almost Zen, smart-assed cat who loathes dogs and seems to have an opinion on everything. It’s a fun place to be.
A domesticated feline (my words, definitely not hers), she misses her wildness, her freedom, her nights spent hunting and her days spent napping in stolen sunshine.
I had read where authors speak of “letting the character show you who they are” and that the writer is merely an observer, not a creator. I didn’t really understand it until I got claws-deep in this project.
Her opinions are different from mine in some cases, and, I think I’ve held her back. Correction. I know I’ve held her back. Censored her. Because I didn’t want “that kind of book,” or I didn’t want her words attributed to me. Because we are similar, but we are not the same.
So. Plot twist. I’m letting her out of her proverbial carrier, removing the kitty muzzle, and letting her go.
There’s no telling where I’ll end up with a cat in charge.
- Plot Twist : Grammarly on Facebook
- Fred Flintstone https://retiredruth.wordpress.com/tag/fred-flinststone/
- Marilyn Monroe: http://shannonmarie1510.buzznet.com/photos/bettypagemarilynmonr/?id=68045773