Another Monday where I have worlds and words and ideas and plans all whirling around in my head . . . and my body is saying, “We need to go lie down.” I hate this imbalance, this lag between what I want to do, and what I can do.
My plan, of course, had been to continue on with telling the story of my illness. But the simple truth is that right now, at this moment and because of my illness, I’m too tired to write. I’ve spent the last hour or so trying to cajole or bully or push myself into being creative, but it’s just not working. I can hardly keep my eyes open, in fact, and I think I’ll be headed for bed soon. Tomorrow is another day, and much to do.
But I read something today that absolutely grabbed my imagination, took over my thoughts and made me gasp, and then it started whirling about with all the other ideas in my head – so I want to share it. I’m not sure yet how or what will come of it, but it made me want to write something. I’d be happy, too, if I could simply find out what book this is from. If anyone knows, PLEASE tell me – I found the scan on a random FB page. The last line in particular – when I read it, I realised once again that this is what I’m doing when I write, here on my blog or in my fiction. Trying to get to that other being inside. Because it has many stories to tell. And it might just be the part of me I’ve been hiding for most of my life.
“My vader once painted a hand with candlelight shining through it.You could faintly see the bones within.”
He stares at me. “That is brilliant. Was it beautiful?”
I lean over to look at the water. “Actually, it was frightening.”
“It reminds you that there is a whole other being inside you.”