A Writer Gets Sick

January is slow to get going.  You've got the hoopla surrounding New Year's Eve, and New Year's Day, and then a bunch of football games, and then things kinda slow down and level off.  People trudge back to work and their normal, non-holiday lives, and finally the month gets itself in gear.

And once it does, I love January.

Yeah, I know, weird.

But I love the clarity of it.  Clear, cold days.  (Well, okay if you live in Oregon there's lots of rainy days, too.) No Christmas decorations or lights or bustle to clog things up.  Just winter.  Bare trees, grey days. Clarity. There's been ideas aplenty coming in the dark days of December and time to organize them and think about grand goals in the downtime after Christmas. You know where you're going and you're eager to get there.  Clarity.

So I always anticipate January getting its little head of steam up and settling in so I can enjoy it.

Too bad this year I started the year with a virulent stomach virus.

Shortly after the Ducks won the Rose Bowl, it hit me out of nowhere.  Literally.  I was fine one minute, vomiting the next.  (I'll spare you the rest of the gory details.  Trust me, they were gory.  And you are thanking me for sparing you them.)

But it's interesting when a writer gets sick and can do nothing but lie around. 

(Except when I could see straight I read: ripped through State of Wonder by Ann Patchett, which you should go arm wrestle for a copy right now and also a YA novel called Fever Crumb by Philip Reeve.)

Interesting because the writer then thinks.

About such things as the phrase "get sick."  One of the connotations of the word "get" is that it's a prize, or a bonus, or a gift.  As in, you "get" to do something.  So perhaps I should ponder the prize, bonus, or gift of being sick?

Well, the above-mentioned reading was one.  And the fact that I got to lie about and do nothing was another.  And then there was the free pass out of housework of any kind.  Hmm, I'm starting to see why people become hypochrondriacs.  Think there's any money in it?

But the best thing was that ideas for my writing came fast and furious. Even in my feverish state.  Probably because of my feverish state.  Take away the noise and the business, and images and plots come into focus.  And then, that made me miss, with a mad intensity, my writing.  And that made me forget hypochondria as my new careeer and vow to get well so I could get back to my writing.

And so here I am. 

Biggest take-away from a week of illness?  Writing is the best job in the world, not only because you get to be a writer, but because in being a writer you make sense of the world.

Even when you're sick.

Have you ever had an epiphany when you were sick?

**A reminder that there's still time to sign up for my Make Money Writing class, which begins on Tuesday.  Yay.  Its going to be fun, and informative.  I believe that there's a way to make money writing that you will love and adore and I want to help you find it.  So check out the class page.