Yes, that was meant to be shouted from the rooftops.  I started the new book, and I wanted to kick myself.  What was my big problem?  I wrote a page and a half, did some laundry and filled the wood stove, then came back and wrote another two and a half.  So 1,250 words or so first time out of the gate, and the story just started flowing.  I should have had faith and trusted.  The stories just come, they always have, and writer's block isn't an issue.  It's more a readiness block.  

And oh my. it took off right away.  Hero's nursing a hangover, drinking, and his nemesis, our heroine, shows up at the door of his super spy compound in New Orleans with an innocent waif.  And suddenly she had four brothers, all rats, and she hates her name (I don't even know what her name is -- she goes by Ms. B.J. Gauthier, Esquire (yes, she's a pro bono lawyer from a corrupt N.O. political family).

Of course, now I can talk myself into a state of anxiety over what's going to happen today when he opens the door, or I can figure out a way to release that tension and just do it.  I brainstormed with my therapist on Monday, and together we came up with some good ideas.

Ritual.  I lit a candle and some incense, but she also suggested I come up with a mantra.  I figure that or a small meditation before I jump in.  Just something to shake off the demons.  In fact, I did play Florence and the Machine singing "Shake it Off" (it's hard to dance with the devil on your back so shake it off).  Maybe that's part of my ritual.

And as for the great feeling better attempt, I avoided sweets yesterday, even though I could have easily justified them, so no sweets in the new year.  I've been off Diet Sodas for more than 7 months now, which is huge.  I need to start swimming again, but since we might have wind chills of minus 50 tonight I think I'll wait till next week.  Though I could play one of my exercise videos, and yet somehow I never do.

I'll solve one problem at a time.  Today I write and clean the bedroom with the help of my eldest spawn of Satan (or so she likes to call herself).  Tomorrow I see the doctor about my knees, my wrists, and my shoulder.  Friday I write again and clean a bit more.

Bit by bit it'll get done.  When I was in the depths of depression I lost a lot of weight, and when I started feeling better I turned to sugar.  Now the sugar is gone, the bread is whole wheat (no bread flour sneaking in there) and veggies abound.

To quote the divine Tina Turner, "oh, darling, I know it's gonna work out fine." (Though she was telling that asshole Ike that).  I don't have ... well, I do have assholes in my life, but it's still gonna work out fine, just like it has for Tina.  And maybe someday I'll be able to dance in high heels.