I‘ve mentioned my favorite writing place, right HERE. This is where I do my blogs and short stories, as well as anything else I pen-name out onto the web. It’s a perfect place for breaking one lousy work day into two small half-days. I get a boost of creativity and lose myself in my art. Perfect.
But there are dangers.
The other day, I was writing right from the seat shown in the piece above, nobody around, a clear and perfect day. I was just wrapping up my writing for that day, scanning the last paragraph to make sure everything was orderly and shipshape. Then, something needled me in the back of my right elbow, a sharp pain. I slapped at it – sometimes ants (occasionally big ones) stampede my artist zone and I need to shoo, sweep, or squash them. Whatever this was, I didn’t know. I just hurt. Bit like a critic.
I noticed it was still tender at 2pm. By three, my arm had a low ache to it, from upper arm all the way down to the knuckles. While in a long drafty 3pm meeting, I realized that I had evidence that something had been gnawing me under my forearm too. Both spots were throwing feverish heat, and both had an oily feel to the skin. As soon as the meeting was over, I left work (posted, jokingly, that I was turning into a giant ant). But before I got home, I realized that my arm was actually beading with sweat. That’s that. Diverted to a doc-in-the-box instead and had it looked at. The doctor shrugged off identification. Could have been anything. Prescribed steroids and some anti-somethings (toxings? bodies? Dunno). Went home and went to bed, and felt better the next day. It’s pretty much cleared up now, but boy, was that ever a reaction.
So when other writers tell you about the dangers of depression and writers block and such stuff, make sure you keep an eye over your shoulder for the real danger – rogue suburban wildlife!