So I might have appendicitis. It's looking less and less likely, but still. Really made me think about how much we writers rely on our own good spirits/good health/morale. All I could think was: I've only finished ten stories, and half finished another five! What if I'm now in hospital for the next two weeks up to my deadline?!1!
Of course I realise that other writers have it far worse than me. Other writers have to live on their income, and if they're sick or feeling low they get whipped with chains by the Boss of the plant. The Boss writes reports on them: actually dared not to write 1000 words today! Am going to give them nothing but gruel.
And 1000 words is never enough. No bread if they don't try for a 1000 more every day!
I imagine. In fact, I don't imagine. I kind of know, if only on a small scale. I adore writing, I love it, I could never not do it. Every day I am grateful for my little bit of success. It's worth it to put up with the Boss because of all the lovely writing.
But the Boss still sucks, sometimes. Especially when you might have appendicitis.