It irritated me because I couldn't understand why he was looking so worried. Now that I am breathing better and I can feel that the blood-clots on my lungs are getting smaller so I have more room for air I understand that I must have been quite ill and he was worrying about me - a lot. He doesn't hover anymore so I know I am definitely not as ill as I was a few weeks ago
I spent those weeks staring at FB or gazing at something on TV. All the writing I had done in the preceding months was forgotten, no it was avoided because I had been writing almost to the point I went into hospital and somehow my mind had decided that it was the writing that had sent me there.
I know, stupid right? but the thought was firmly fixed so I stayed away from the books.
I can't remember if I've mentioned this before but I have written three of them and started number four. Anyhoo, I have gradually begun to think about my story - which still doesn't have a title - and the other day I opened book one and began to edit a bit.
I have now re-read the first three books and today I opened book for and was surprised to see that I have seven chapters. I read them all and found that chapters six and seven are unfinished. Now this was a shock because I distinctly remember writing a huge amount of chapter seven but it wasn't there.
I pondered for a while and then did what I hope all writers do at some point, I gazed into nothing and let my mind go.
"you must have written that in hospital" I thought and immediately I could see myself in the bed with my notebook (the one I write the plot and character sheets in) and I had written something in hospital.
I've just read it through and do you know it's not bad. No, not at all bad for a person that was attached to the wall with oxygen tubes and feeling like she had a rock in her chest.
I'm off to copy it to the computer now and to email some more chapters of book one to Mr M who has just begun to read it.
Oh, and to continue trying to find a good title for the series.
