Writing snack of the week is: LOTS OF ROBITUSSIN AND THROAT COAT TEA WITH HONEY. I am terribly sick if you have not realized.

*Still working on the rest of chapter one. I wasn't happy with the length of the last one.

When one is sick, the very last thing you want to do is get up and write. But I have my throat coat tea in one hand, and my computer in front of me, so I am good to go. I've been writing all day, but I have also been cursing at myself for the better half of it. Every sentence I doubt myself, but I keep pushing on. It is so hard to write when your doubts are getting in the way. I've also been in a bad mood almost the entire day, but I've been ignoring it. I have probably gone through eight cups of stress relief tea. Once I got into the swing of things, mainly because I am highly dosed up on Robitussin (which I finally caved in and took, even though I projectile vomit almost any and every liquid medicine I take. I didn't this time. I think my mind and body knew I was suffering), anyway. Once I got into the swing of things and lost myself in writing, I generally felt good about myself. I’m falling in love with my characters. They won’t stop dancing around my brain. I finally looked away from my keyboard long enough to notice that it was getting very dark outside. My brand new steaming cup of tea was ice cold, and my foot was so asleep from sitting on it in my chair that I was afraid I would have to get it amputated. But I didn’t care. Because it feels so good to just write. My fingers are crampy and my brain is fuzzy and I probably dislocated a disk in my spine from bending over for hours, but I still feel great.

Although one thing that sucks is now that my brain had a few seconds in the real world, I can’t get it back into my book world, and my mind keeps wandering. I’m staring at the screen and thinking, “Oh my god, what happened?”

I was doing so well, and now it’s gone. So I decided to come and write this blog post. I’ve thought up a new poem just now as well. Are you ready for it? It’s really dumb and probably doesn’t make any sense because my brain is still fuzzy from being away for so long, but here it goes……

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Writers Block by Nicole. Duh.

There is a ‘Caution: Do Not Cross’ sign plastered on my face.

My brain is a construction site that I am terrified will never be finished.

In the center of my forehead, there is a complex puzzle.

It is built of nothing but tall walls, twisted tubes, locked doors, and secret passages.

Behind the complicated mess there are beautiful things waiting to be discovered.

I pace the corners of my room shouting soliloquies at the top of my lungs,

But it does not help. My characters and plot twists will not come to the front of my skull where I can see them.

They are locked tight in secret compartments,

They are awaiting a curious child to explore its depths.

Delve into this mess with joy, and do not leave until you are truly satisfied with your progress,

And become familiar with this repetitive pattern.

There is not a key that is easily found, nor a manual to tell you exactly where to look.

These walls are purely personal, emotional, and exhaustive. You can unlock them just as easily as you put them up.

So get up. Walk around outside and feel the grass squish between your toes.

Remind yourself why you write in the first place, and remind yourself that it is not easy.

Do whatever it takes. Because when you hit your curve, all you will be left to do is watch the beauty unfold.

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TA-DA!!! It's kind of rough but that is my poem about writers block. I wrote it out and then went back and twisted the words until I was satisfied. But anyway. That’s all for tonight. I’m going to take Robitussin again as well as make myself a cup of sleepytime tea and then I’m going to pass out into a heavily medicated sleep. Being sick is the worst feeling in the world.

Goodnight all.

Tonight's inspiring tea message: "I am beautiful, I am bountiful, I am blissful."