Day 24: The Rain
Words written: 4,022 by the skin of my teeth
Hours slept last night: 4
Chap has an itching problem. Last night, I'm going to say we slept for maybe a few hours. I remember the sky getting lighter through the blinds, so that was probably around 5 a.m. He wouldn't stop licking his legs and back. I turned on the lamp finally to examine him, in case he was crawling with fleas and ticks. He presses right up against me in bed, so I kept imagining them jumping from his body to my hair. I saw nothing on him. I contemplated my options: go sleep on the coach to escape him (he would follow), kick him out the room (he would cry and wake the others), or hold on to him and hope he would stop (that's the solution I chose, and he would stop, only to start again if I moved).
To compensate, I drank too much coffee today. I knew it when I felt a tweak in my back--this sense of anxiousness in my body that wouldn't still. The rain made it difficult to leave the house except for a trip to the grocery store for more food (including cupcakes), but the rest of the day was spent staring at the computer screen, trying to figure out what more I could add to the story, what the conflict would be. In the middle of the night, I contemplated turning it into a mystery. What if she decides someone else killed the murdered girl whose apartment she's renting? And what if I could tie it back to the rescued cats, and then there would be a scene where the real killer comes back to the apartment, for what? A flipping treasure map? And then what special skills could she bring to solving the murder as a nurse? In Saturday, the main character is a neurosurgeon, so he saves himself and his family by being able to diagnose the troubles of the man who is threatening them at knife point. That's the big pay off. The nurse could...figure out the man has high blood pressure? It began to unravel before it started, because I would also have to figure out how that connected back to the job as a transplant coordinator, and then you get into iffy territory where the killer is doing it for some kind of illegal organ selling ring, and you play into the the fear the masses have about donation, and you have done more harm than good. First, as a writer/doctor, do no harm. This book will not become a murder mystery and I do not know what the conflict is even now. There has been no click in my brain for it to fall into place, and I'm starting to fear that will ever be the case.
Hours slept last night: 4
Chap has an itching problem. Last night, I'm going to say we slept for maybe a few hours. I remember the sky getting lighter through the blinds, so that was probably around 5 a.m. He wouldn't stop licking his legs and back. I turned on the lamp finally to examine him, in case he was crawling with fleas and ticks. He presses right up against me in bed, so I kept imagining them jumping from his body to my hair. I saw nothing on him. I contemplated my options: go sleep on the coach to escape him (he would follow), kick him out the room (he would cry and wake the others), or hold on to him and hope he would stop (that's the solution I chose, and he would stop, only to start again if I moved).
To compensate, I drank too much coffee today. I knew it when I felt a tweak in my back--this sense of anxiousness in my body that wouldn't still. The rain made it difficult to leave the house except for a trip to the grocery store for more food (including cupcakes), but the rest of the day was spent staring at the computer screen, trying to figure out what more I could add to the story, what the conflict would be. In the middle of the night, I contemplated turning it into a mystery. What if she decides someone else killed the murdered girl whose apartment she's renting? And what if I could tie it back to the rescued cats, and then there would be a scene where the real killer comes back to the apartment, for what? A flipping treasure map? And then what special skills could she bring to solving the murder as a nurse? In Saturday, the main character is a neurosurgeon, so he saves himself and his family by being able to diagnose the troubles of the man who is threatening them at knife point. That's the big pay off. The nurse could...figure out the man has high blood pressure? It began to unravel before it started, because I would also have to figure out how that connected back to the job as a transplant coordinator, and then you get into iffy territory where the killer is doing it for some kind of illegal organ selling ring, and you play into the the fear the masses have about donation, and you have done more harm than good. First, as a writer/doctor, do no harm. This book will not become a murder mystery and I do not know what the conflict is even now. There has been no click in my brain for it to fall into place, and I'm starting to fear that will ever be the case.
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