What constitutes an acceptable reason for not doing something you know you should do, aim to do, and frequently even enjoy doing? What’s a legitimate reason for not-doing, and what’s just an excuse for procrastinating?

Le Penseur (8327862567)

Or in my case, what’s an acceptable reason for spending another Monday in Not Writing? I think I’ve got a good one, this time.

My Monday started early; I was awake by one in the morning. By three I had decided to take my symptoms seriously, and by four I was leaving for hospital in an ambulance. (A very well-behaved ambulance, I must add: no wailings or speedings or other neighbour-unfriendly behaviour.)

no standing

My heart was doing 150, which is considerably over the posted speed limit for Lying Down Doing Nothing. The hospital tested this, that, and the other (are you having chest pains at all?), gave me a litre of water to drink and a litre of saline direct into a vein and then let me go home again.

Mind you, this all took about four and a half hours, so it was about time to start writing when I got home – but I’d only had three hours sleep. Can you imagine the artistic agony, the wrenching heartbreak of the anguished decision?

The Martyrdom of Saint Bartholomew, 1634

You must have an overactive imagination. I was too far gone even to figure out what day it was. I remained vertical only about long enough to peel off the fifteen or so sensors the medicos had stuck me with (apart from one which I found several hours later), and that was that. Common sense prevailed.

In fact, I spent most of the rest of the week in a horizontal position as well, only making it back to the DDJ for part of Friday, which may or may not have been a mistake.

Coloured Files

Quite a lot of work had accrued in my absence, and the question was raised as to whether I would like to go in to the office this coming Monday and do it then.

No, as it happens, I wouldn’t.
I’m going to be writing.

Zombie Rising

And we are not talking about those lovable Chocolate Zombies, either.

At least one of you has noticed the lack of posts of late; I am sorry to inform you that this is because I have become a zombie. However I am seeing the doctor shortly and I hope there is a cure.

Emdee by Schell

I had last week off the DDJ, and oh, the plans I had. Yes, I needed to reconstruct everything after the crisis, but it was going to be fun. I was going to have time. I could live like a writer, at least for a week! The bells pealed, the angels sang, and I wrote about a thousand words of notes on the reincarnation of my WIP.

Mass Emergencies Opening Reception - Saint Peter and His Choir of Angels with Andre Woodward's Work

And then…
You guessed it. I got sick. At the worst, I had a high fever and couldn’t even bear to read (i.e. was at death’s door, as precious little else will stop me reading).
Once all my leave was up I went back to the DDJ, thinking I was getting better. But after only a day and a half I had to go home sick again. The cough, the cold…

Cough and the Common Cold

On the plus side, this means I am not at the DDJ and can even squeeze in a little writing here and there.

On the downside, I now have less than three days of sick leave to last me til mid 2014. (Guess I’d better not get sick again. ) I also have the brain of a zombie – all greyish green gook and slow synapses.

On the plus side again, I also have a Hollow-Cheeked Writer’s Cough which is definitely giving me the appropriate garret look.

58/365 where does it hurt?

What I really need to do now (aside from see the doctor for a zombie-cure, obvs.) is start writing the new draft. Just a line. Because until that first line is down, there’s the spectre of Perfectionism hanging over me.
And that’s scarier than any zombie.