Memoirs of a Most Unprolific Week

Days have gone by without me having a coherent thing to post here. I don’t want to be negative either, so when I’m feeling negative I tell myself “I’ll write something good tomorrow” and there were a few tomorrows in there as I made it through the week. I actually left the comfort of my neighborhood twice: once to the Upper East Side, which seems like another city entirely from downtown, and while there I found myself in a heavy rainstorm, which was calming and soothing to my hot head. Then another day I left my comfort zone (it must be a radius of 25 blocks) to go to Brooklyn for an off-site work meeting, and while there discovered—I should say rediscovered—an undeniable allergy to cats (sob! you should have seen how one of my eyes swelled up!). I’m glad to be back here, on my own two feet. The heat has been unbearable. I don’t think I’ll voluntarily get on the subway for the rest of the month.

The conflict: not enough writing was completed this week, and my goal of finishing the outline for the YA novel for Monday morning is seeming next to impossible. (I won’t say officially impossible, not yet.) I wrote only two mornings before work this week. I meant to write Friday afternoon, since we have half-day summer Fridays, but the rain was very heavy and I was too lazy to wrap my computer in plastic and walk over to my writing spot. Plus the apparent cat allergy had formed a solid ball of congestion in my head so I took a Benadryl. An hour later I practically collapsed in the midst of reading a chapter for a book I’m adapting (another freelance writing project)—I couldn’t even finish the page I was on. I slept thirteen hours last night. It feels like a trip in itself: I was in a dry, hot place, tossing and turning all night. Pieces of reality slipped in and then… gone. I don’t remember much.

I can’t get sick. I cannot. I have too much to do right now.

It’s Saturday morning. I am at my writing spot. A woman came and sat beside me, her feet up on the desk and her chair turned so she was facing my back, reading a book. I cannot stand when people turn their desk chairs and face my back while I’m typing. Then she moved. I hope she doesn’t come back. I’m at that delicate balance where the tiniest of things can send me spiralling into excuses. No excuses! No sniffles! You get the picture. I need to psych myself up with some exclamation points. Maybe I’ll get caught in another rainstorm today.

5 responses to “Memoirs of a Most Unprolific Week”

  1. Having woken up this morning with that worst of all colds, the summer cold, I was inspired by your No excuses! No sniffles! mantra to get out of bed and… well, at least to sit up in bed and drink some tea and contemplate getting something done today. Your writing place makes a lot of sense to me — somewhere the temperature’s just right, for one thing. All over the web, I’ve been noticing in my browsing, from London to New York and in between, it’s HOT. I’m glad you’re somewhere cool this morning and I hope the writing goes well, dear Nova.

  2. I missed your blog over the past few days – and I so sympathise with your allergy to cats. I had forgotten how disgustingly allergic I was to the British summer. I have been rabid since I arrived here – yuck, yuck, yuck! But trying to soldier on, that is the best mindset to be in.

    It sounds as if Benadryl did not agree with you. I am on (generic) Claratyne, taking it is like trying to smash a boulder with a squeaky hammer, it has very little effect but at least it is non-drowsy.

    Ooh – what you said about the woman sitting with her back to you – I get that when people hover just behind me. Grrrr! I cannot do a single thing.

    All the best for a productive day and week. You are doing loads more than me, hang on in there.

  3. Thanks to you both! Bloglily, I hope you’re feeling better. Helen, I know I wouldn’t have gotten nearly anything done at all if I also had a little baby to take care of! 😉

  4. Glad to see you’re back Nova! Yes, I’m also allergic to cats. Not too bad as long as I don’t actually touch one tho.

    Your remark about rainstorms I found very evocative. They are quite magical, washing away the dust, the negative, energizing people to run like crazy rabbits with newspapers over their heads or stop and smile at the sound.

    I have always LOVED the sound of rain on my tent walls. Especially if I’m warm in my sleeping bag and free to dawdle until it ends.

    They are little baptisms of the spirit that renew us.

    Doug

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