Hello,
If you've come over from my other blog, thank you!
I want to start writing things again, as I try to oil the works in
preparation for writing a book. Or rather, to test myself to see if I
have the commitment to stick to a writing schedule. I'm challenging myself to a 365 day writing challenge, to get my writing muscles in fine fettle. It doesn't matter what I write, as long as I do.
I'm going to call this 365 challenge 'Fact of Fiction' as I will be sharing memories as well as writing short stories. Today's story is factual.
I've
always had trouble with my throat, even from a very small age. I just
saw a packet of brown sugar on the kitchen side and remembered how I
would have to suck sugar sandwiches until they completely melted as I
couldn't chew or swallow anything. I remember on several occasions that
trying to swallow my own saliva was unbearable and I'd spit it into a
tissue. I know I was taken to the doctors about my throat often when I
was a child but no one ever suggested having my tonsils taken out. To
this day I sometimes get throat infections out of the blue, and I've had
laryngitis a few times.
When I was in my late 20s and
working at Past Times (a historical gift shop) I got laryngitis so bad I
could barely talk. I sounded far worse than I felt, even though I also
had the flu. I rang into work with a progress report after a few days
(still sounding awful) I was offered more time off and turned it down
flat as I was bored. It seems funny to remind myself of the past and
times when hard work was as normal for me as breathing.
You
lose something of yourself when you're no longer a worker bee. I put my
all into any job I did, even if they were shitty jobs. There's
satisfaction in doing even the crappiest job well, and you owe it to
your colleagues too unless you're a lazy shit. Of course this blog is
like a job, except it doesn't pay, ha! If people ask what I do I usually
mysteriously say 'I'm a lady of leisure' and when they look incredulous
I make a further joke about James being loaded so we can afford it.
It's easier than explaining the whole Fibromyalgia and CFS thing. Fibromy-what?! Chronic fatigue? Yeah, I get tired a lot too.
*seethe* I feel like I should get bullet points tattooed on the inside
of my right arm so I can just whip my sleeve up and point at it. ;)
Maybe one day if I get over my fear of my own success I can proudly say 'I'm an author.'
I've never been afraid of failure, but I've been scared shitless of my own success my whole life. I have no idea why.
Thanks for tuning in for day 1 of 365.
Leah xoxo
