End the day with a positive thought, what an interesting, inspirational message? When I first saw this quote the other day, I had to stop and think about it. The first question I asked myself was, why?
In thinking about the deeper meaning of the inspirational message, I thought about what I do every day since I can remember. Yes, that’s right, back to when I was a child, though it’s more likely that as a young adult, I lived this mindset.
The full quote reads:
“Always end the day with a positive thought. No matter how hard things were, tomorrow’s a fresh opportunity to make it better.”
I’ve been giving a lot of thought to the plot of my next novel. I find that once I am in the midst of the storyline, I feel fantastic. The writing is comfortable and natural. I can lose all track of time and my environment. Much to the despair of my loving girlfriend and partner, I’ve been known to ignore her while I am in the depths of typing out my latest scene. Sorry love.
I don’t know about you other writers out there, but when I am invested in a character, I tend to feel what they feel, be it pleasurable or not. I like it, and I get to imagine what it is like to experience their lives as they fulfill their destiny.
I need to revisit the realm of one of my characters. I have several great story lines I’d like to delve in one day. Just not today.
I don’t understand why not. I remember how excited I was when I wrote down those story outlines. In fact, I remember one day, writing down over a dozen plots that I could use in developing a new book. Yet, as I reviewed them over the past couple of weeks, none of them stood out and captured my interest. Of course, I wrote all of those notes pre-concussion.
My question to everyone out there, am I experiencing a writer’s block or did my brain injury affect me in ways that are changing me? I hadn’t thought so last month. I was in the depths of the glory of producing my last novel, ‘The Trafficking Consortium.’ My stream of creative thought, missing for many months after my brain injury, seemed to return with a big bang. Yet, today I wonder if it was just a fleeting spark. The stream, so much a part of my life, has regressed to a mere trickle, falling ever so slowly from a water faucet.
What do you think? Am I suffering a short-term writer’s block or am I suffering from the after effects of my brain injury? Can ‘Post-Concussion Syndrome’ be that devastating? Please leave me a reply by commenting in the field below. Unless otherwise requested, all replies will be publicly shared.
Thanks for reading this and sharing your thoughts. I do appreciate the valuable time you spend in my little corner of the world.
Until next time, this is Richard Verry, sitting at my desk, looking out the window at an unseasonably mild and overcast gray day, and anxious as to whether I will ever return to my normal self.
Good morning world. I’m looking forward to a new week that ends better than the last.
Why? Let me tell you.
Reflective in the title of this post, last Friday, I literally saw stars. No, they weren’t a bunch of five-star reviews of my books. One can hope. No, I didn’t see the stars of the night, sweeping across the sky. I wish it was just this.
Nope, I saw stars when I banged my head against a very large, low hanging pipe designed to carry conditioned air. I was straightening a set of small boxes that I was stacking, knowing that there four hundred similar boxes arriving in moments. Yup! I was at work, doing my job. Mind you, I knew the pipe was there. However, in that moment, bent over focused on my goal, I had forgotten it was there.
Then I stood up and saw a galaxy of stars.
I wacked my head hard. The room around me went dark and I saw untold stars flashing behind my eyes. Think of a lot of mass against an immovable object. In that split second, as pain walloped my head, my brain bounced around inside my head. Expletives galore rang out as I fell to the ground, supported on all fours.
It was several minutes before I could stand up again. Bent over, recovering, I could only think, “Stupid, I knew it was there. Why the fuck didn’t I move first. ‘Stunad!’ (Italian slang for moron)”
Eventually, I seemed to recover and finished stacking the boxes. An hour later, sitting at my desk, my headache grew, despite the overdose of Tylenol I took to combat what I knew was coming. An hour after that, my thoughts stopped focusing and I knew I was in trouble. I went home early and called my doctor.
A short time after that, I’m in the Emergency Department at the local hospital being treated for a concussion. Oh, how can athletes play their sport with a concussion? It must be the millions they make doing it.
Me, I’ve been suffering everyday since. The headache hasn’t gone away, and I get nauseous getting driven to the pharmacy for meds. I’ve been planted in my recliner, getting up to use the bathroom or getting a bite to eat.
The treatment? Seven to ten days of rest and I can return to work when I am no longer symptomatic. Three days later, and I still am. It’s hard to concentrate just writing this post. Imagine what it would be like at work where my job is to sit at a computer and write code, et. all. Before I lose it, I’ll sign off and find my favorite chair and rest, doing mindless, brainless stuff.
All I can say is thank you to all my fans for reading this. I appreciate you.