There’s a light show going on inside my head. The show begins with a coiled-up spiral of refracted light that gradually unravels to the edges of my vision; very Vegas, dramatic, with neon bars lined up into strands that blind me temporarily, like the after-image of a flash bulb. Then the nausea, the upchuck, the semi-trailer parked on my left temple. It hurts to blink.
Everyone’s got their health issue(s), and this is mine. The migraines have gotten progressively worse over the past year with what I assume are hormonal fluctuations, so persistent that I’ve spent the past few weeks hiding like a vampire from the light. Writing has become a real struggle. It’s hard to keep the ideas in order, and when I reread my stuff later there are gaps where I’ve wandered from the point and apparently into someone else’s story. I forget names and places. I forget where I am and what I meant to say. Yesterday I wrote an entire scene in first person that should have been in third. Another time I called my character Alice for several pages before it occurred to me that I was writing about Celia. Imagine writing through your worst hangover, and you’ll get the idea.
My editor is going to have her work cut out for her.
What are your physical challenges?