breathing is fun

After the chest thing turned to bad asthma attack I took myself to the hospital (nothing like Holby City unfortunately) and got nebulised. Pumped full of steroids and home to antibiotics and hopefully a return to health. Feeling very weak and tired but I am breathing. It is a wonderful thing breathing and I greatly recommend it. We take it for granted far too much. And so I beg you, whoever is out there to take a few moments to give thanks to that unbelievable art. I am going to bake it a cake tomorrow and wish it good luck and many happy returns of the day. I even slept last night whereas the night before I sat up in bed monitoring the noble breath from midnight to seven am. Unable to believe it would do it without my attending to it.

Today, the man provided lunch and a nap in front of the news, and then left me to sleep. I was just about to do that when I thought I would click on to the novel, just to see where I'd got to. And guess what. I was hooked. Just tapped out another 1000 words and good words I think.

Reading the Signs has asked me to talk more about my writing and the process. And so I will. I try to write 15 minutes a day. I figure that even if that is torture I can just about commit to that, it keeps me at the coal face and it is easier the next day to be there ready to go on with the story. If for any reason, like illness or laziness I don't do that simple thing, then the next day it is more difficult. I have come out from the mine shaft, wandered around like mere mortals having coffee and chats and lunches etc, and I am out of sorts and out of the atmosphere of this other life, the characters and things going on in my novel. My characters are incredibly forgiving of this , but they shouldn't be. But at least they are still breathing (this seems to be a theme) when I get to them . They haven't given up the ghost on me and gone limp, or worse died by my absence. Will talk more of it all later.

For now. In with the breath and out with the out breath. Joy in simple pleasures