I cut my hand open today. To be exact, I was pulled into a metal door jamb by my dog and scraped two layers of skin from my index finger. And because of my awesome aversion to blood, shock set in almost immediately.
Yep, that’s right, dizziness combined with nausea and sweating in equal parts. Loads of fun let me tell you. The one thing I thought as my head tumbled between my knees in the “I’m not gonna faint” position was how am I going to type with a bum hand?
A startling question since I’ve been hosting an epic-scale pity party for the past two months, the theme being, “Everyone’s making it but me” complete with depression draught and procrastination pie. Maybe scraping up the layers of emotional epidermis forced inspiration to flow to the surface.
I think it’s time to work on a new book. What do you say?
Absolutely! And if it makes you feel any better, I'm not making it yet. Two novels queried (one done long ago, one just starting), zero requests. Seriously, not even a partial.
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Yes by all means, start that new book! Sorry about your finger! I did the same thing on Thanksgiving and severed a nerve. It just got back full feeling about two weeks ago! I didn't type with it for almost a month and a half after I cut it. Big OUCH!
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