I have a NaNoWriMo hangover.
Without an ongoing project to work on, I’m having a hard time getting back into the swing of things. I keep listlessly casting around for ideas and finding nothing that my mind catches on. I do have an idea for a novel, but I’m going to need to do some real research for it because it’s historical, and I don’t know enough about the subject in question. (On that note: if you’ve got any recommendations for a good book on prison ships, please let me know!)
Research will have to wait until I can get my hands on some books. It may be time for a visit to the library.
I desperately feel the urge to write something. It’s a stressful time of year, and I’m missing that outlet. I mean, it’s been nine days. And I’m going mad. I feel it like an itch in my brain. Must write, no words. Everything feels empty and inadequate.
On top of everything, 2016 still has some arrows of doom left in its quiver: my 15 year old cat, Sam, went into a rapid decline last week. He has lost a lot of weight in a short time, and we took him to the vet today to discover he has a large mass in his stomach. The vet gave him a steroid shot, but it doesn’t look good, and if he doesn’t improve over the weekend we will have to have him put to sleep.
So, that’s pretty upsetting. I take comfort in the fact that he’s had a long life full of love and presumably adventure, given the number of nights he came home with new battle scars. He’s tough as nails, is my Sam, a little fighter, but I’m not holding out much hope that he’ll come through this one.
I have a book review I’m working on that I was going to post today, but with everything I just wasn’t feeling it. It’ll come this month, along with a piece or two of prose or poetry if I can get my brain in order and get writing again. Forgive me if I don’t post next week.