Today, it was my badge of honor. Telling people that you are like Typhoid Mary makes them run quick.
Writing can do that too. Turn against you like your body. Like the S. Pyogenes in my throat. Silly me, med technologist II, for thinking that I was coughing too much not to have it. Rapid strep test, gotta love it. Ah, reactions, lovely reactions...
A story can turn on you too. You start writing the darn thing then suddenly, blam! It turns ugly. You stare at the screen wondering "what happened to my stream of conscience and sweet metaphors? I had a great story!"
Had.
Anybody else feeling me? Having your dream/passion bite you in the butt?
Writing: a disease with no cure. Unless you count writer's block as an antibiotic.
Writing can do that too. Turn against you like your body. Like the S. Pyogenes in my throat. Silly me, med technologist II, for thinking that I was coughing too much not to have it. Rapid strep test, gotta love it. Ah, reactions, lovely reactions...
A story can turn on you too. You start writing the darn thing then suddenly, blam! It turns ugly. You stare at the screen wondering "what happened to my stream of conscience and sweet metaphors? I had a great story!"
Had.
Anybody else feeling me? Having your dream/passion bite you in the butt?
Writing: a disease with no cure. Unless you count writer's block as an antibiotic.
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