Writing with Rona

 

I am currently 3/4 of the way done with my new short, Toma the Hunter. 

I also have covid. 

My darling wife is a choir teacher and a student passed covid on to her, and she unknowingly passed it on to me. Now I am resting in a sea of sinus pressure, a mild headache, and soiled tissue paper. I am staring at a blank page and have no energy to fill it up. I am down with the sickness, but I am not down with it at all if that makes sense.

You would think that unfettered free time would yield all sorts of benefits, but the truth is that humans are fickle creatures who inherently plan their free time because free time is like water. Too much of it drowns you. Do I have things to do? Absolutely. Do I have the energy to do them? Not at all. 

So your favorite budding writer, your storyteller, the one you have never heard of, is in limbo. 

And it sucks. I have adventures to go on, sorcerers to kill, wars to fight, and treasures to steal. I have lost cities to explore, new planets to discover, and a princess's heart to capture. I have ships to sail, mechs to control, and giant monsters to battle. I have the beginning of time to observe, and then end of time to witness. 

But I can't do it until I stop sneezing and wheezing.