Wishing You All a Wonderful Valentine’s Day, Before the Medication Kicks In.

via Longmire

I’m sick.

For the past couple of days, I’ve been laid up in bed, drooling and sweating out whatever demons possessed me a couple of nights ago, losing my taste for food and drink, incapable of willing my rickety old tree of a body to function as anything else but something that pees a lot and generally being useless.

I hate this.

I hate this because even though the room spins and a debilitating chill that no one else feels but me cuts me down halfway to my computer, even though I somehow manage to prop up my head without inducing the urge to vomit, even though I catch up on all the lovely postings that other people (other non-sick people) post, there is still that one charming motivational blogger that loves to share his wisdom:

…Ya big SISSY!

And oh, how the voices in my head taunt me, “Awww, what? Hemingway, Huxley and Voltaire managed to squeeze something out on their death bed! You get the sniffles and everything shuts down? GET ON YOUR FEET!” Chicken soup, a steady diet of Coricidin and water and a hot shower later…and I’ve managed to whittle it down to a the type of headache normally reserved for drinking heavily the night before.
I’m sick.
Semi-conscious in bed with NPR in the background. The story this hour is the business of Romance Novels and how it became a multimillion dollar industry. Ideas creep slowly into my sickly, little mind. Ideas that are quickly distorted when I check my declining number of hits and the realization that I haven’t written anything in days. (Incidentally, as of this post I will have posted more in three months than all of 2009 when I first started. Nothing big. Nothing to brag about. Just wanted to take a moment and enjoy the view from this summit before I move on to the next one.) Ideas that finally prompt me out of bed and in front of a keyboard muttering to myself, “Multimillion dollar industry, huh? An industry that’s built itself on formulaic trash? Hmmm….maybe I should grab some of that action!” So, without further ado…adoo? Aduu? Adieu? Goodbye? Without further delay and a strong desire to see my spellchecker freak the hell out, here’s my crack at my new, hot romance novella. I have to write this quick before the medication kicks in.

I’m just a small town girl trying to make it in the big city. I somehow managed to land a lucrative position at a high end publishing firm with my hayseed education but things are going well. I just wish I can meet that Mr. Right, you know the one? The one that I’ve built up all my unreal expectations around because that’s what the people at Mattel and Disney told me that’s what I should hold out for. I mean, I don’t bend my feminist ideals for any bungling , well meaning oaf. I need a warrior with rock hard abs, a chiseled chin, not much going on upstairs, but a whole lot going on downstairs. Someone who is sexy, and sensitive, and dresses well…and who isn’t gay.

My boss, Mr. Rapey Von Bodiceripper, says I have what it takes to make it in the world of publishing. That was before he turned me into a vampire and we set out on our sex-filled romp around the world to exterminate zombies. Life in the big city sure is complicated sometimes. But, that’s okay because this book will sell millions of copies and spawn a movie franchise that will last for years…

…it’s a work in progress…

…I’m still sick…

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