Writing is an art, but it’s also a job, a business, and like any business there’s one thing binding them together in commonality. No, not the Force. The germs.
I’ve been doing well the last week keeping up a strong work ethic. I’d wake up every morning, brew up some coffee, sit my ass down, and get my day’s writing done in a few hours. It feels good, accomplishing. Yesterday, however, I just wasn’t feeling it. I sat down at my laptop and didn’t feel quite the same, that feeling of slight fatigue from getting out of bed while also being energized by the thought of a chance to be productive. So I took the day off from writing and focused on some paperwork instead, figuring I was okay because I was still getting things done.
Then I went to my tutoring job in the afternoon and quickly felt worse: body aches, weakness in the limbs, an increasingly scratchy throat. No doubt about it. I was sick. I’m feeling better than yesterday, but I’m still quite out of it, so I’m giving myself a sick day. Even Gillian was kind enough to give me the day off. You guys remember Gillian, right? So when I say even she’s expressing kindness, it’s a pretty earth-shattering thing.
Be good to yourselves, folks. If you’re too sick to write, then all you’re going to produce is gibberish that you’ll have to waste time redoing later on.