sick days

When I was a kid, getting sick was fun. Not the throwing up/fever aspect, but the part where I got to stay home from school and watch television and have my mom bring me orange juice and toast.

As I got older, the fun faded. In college being sick meant missing lectures that I’d paid for, and possibly annoying teachers who had the power to drop me (or worse, didn’t and simply lowered my grade).

I quickly learned that if I had to go in after getting my wisdom teeth pulled, I had to go in. Don’t get me started about when I was on the paper (if a Stand-like flu was sweaping over the world, I would either be out there gathering information for the story or in the classroom, organizing how the event would be covered. Healthy or sick, it was my life, and I loved it).

Writing full time continues the “ah well, show up anyway” approach to being sick. Got the flu? Write about the characters having the flu. Migraine? Oh good, you can write about the aftereffects of doing too much magic too soon. Food poisoning? Okay, now you can curl up on the bed and tell the roommate who to send the laptop and your unfinished writing to after you’ve died.

This week, I went to the dentist for a deep cleaning. He’s patient and gets that I’m a big wuss about the pain. I, meanwhile, get drugged and spend the time afterward trying to catch a small black dot that I know doesn’t exist. When I get home, I curl up in bed with a notebook and sleep.

And, as I discovered when I woke up this morning, write. New scenes and snippets dotted the slightly crumbled pages. Some were vague, others good, but all were written in black ink by a hand that didn’t care how well it could spell. Sick or healthy,  the writing goes on. It’s my life and I love it.

Written by Luisa Prieto

Dark fantasy writer by day, dark fantasy writer by night. I'm charmingly dull that way ;)
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