Stumbling Along

 Life throws things at you randomly to keep you on your toes. I started back working on my book, The Dream Stealer, on November 12th. It may get a new title. For the next nine days, I wrote day and night. By the ninth day, I had around 30K words. My mind was blown. I wasn't sleeping; I lost 10 lbs because I wasn't eating. I could be slimmer if I wrote day and night. I forgot to eat. 

On the second day, I cried and cried nearly every day I wrote. You write what you know and what was going into the story; I knew. And it was painful, beautiful and painful. I went into an immediate depression. I denied it, of course. I couldn't explain what was happening in my head. Until about the 4h or 5th day. 

That's when I realized that the way my character thought and behaved was very familiar to me. I had experienced them in another life. 

Who knew that could happen?

The ages of my characters were very close to ours when I married my husband. The relationship between them was so reminiscent of my marriage in those days, I couldn't stand it. A word, a look — all were like knives. I stopped watching a clock and just wrote. Hours at a time. And I cried between chapters and during breaks. 

You may ask why I didn't stop. Because I couldn't sleep. The story was like a dam break. It kept pouring in and there was no outlet unless I wrote it. So.... I'm close to 35K now. With each scene, I also get a little more insight as to why I have been so impacted.

If you could relive a moment with someone you love, even on paper, what would you do? The thing had a hold on me, and it felt as if I wrote it. Or it was meant to kill me. 

I didn't die, but I can't say I came out of the flow unscathed. I won't know until I finish it. 

I'm still working on it. Over the last four days, I've spent more time talking to friends or family. I know I have to sleep more. And I have to put the past to bed, while still keeping the memories without pain. Because the actual truth is, I'm stuck. 

Mike is waiting for an appointment with a neurologist in Indy. They have his request and are waiting for his medical records.

David is working, and I think he finally found a job he really enjoys. However, he's the strong, silent type and never says. 

Tonight, I'm out of words. Truly. It hit me suddenly in the middle of a conversation that my ability to say something had simply ended. So, I'll end this post and say good night.