Telling the Whole Story

“Don’t write through a migraine.”

I find myself thinking this, even as a hundred new ideas barrel into me for the two pieces I’ll be focusing on come November: Sandcastles, and a novella that I sense will be about a ghost ship.

It’s exciting. I’d like to say one day that I told the whole story, and readers can fill in the blanks. I have a habit of thinking I should write as if morning won’t come (I might also be traumatized because, the one time I took a break while writing a series, I forgot how it was supposed to end.)

Writing with a headache won’t have good results. Either I won’t write much at all, or it’ll be incoherent, lacking the degree of commitment I can give other chapters when well-rested.

“Read a book, then,” says my obsessive brain. “At least you’ll still be improving as a writer.”

“But those tiny letters,” protest my eyes.

So I find myself thankful that my phone needs to be plugged in; I can’t commit to writing on it now. My laptop is stored away. I listen to music with my beautiful mama instead, my dogs present—Pink asleep on my lap, and Stanley asleep next to my smelly slippers.

There will be a morning, and I will feel better, and I’ll write a good chapter. People will enjoy it. I’ll still tell the whole story.

Another bad habit of mine is panicking that I’ll never have enough time to complete this series. Will I be like Dickens, leaving a novel unfinished for eternity so fans can make up whichever ending they think best fits?

I’m a writer. These scenarios do come to me.

I hope you enjoy Episode 74 of Sea Rose/Groundwater when it goes live. I have a bonus chapter to write from the viewpoint of Meredith. I’ll do it when I’ve rested.

Back to the music. Also, I got a haircut! Why do I feel so much more professional now?

The point: Take breaks. It’s okay.

And the kicker: I should take my own advice.