A Fogbound Writer

I thought, for a few hours toward the end of the week, that I might have the post I’ve been working on done by Sunday. That didn’t happen.

By Saturday’s end, I’d written and kept more words than I’d deleted. But they didn’t add up to anything I wanted to share.

I could have stopped there, posting what I had, with some sort of ‘to be continued’ promise. But that would have meant chopping the thing off in mid-flow. I figured you wouldn’t want to wonder how — and if — I’d make coming back for ‘part two’ worthwhile.

And I’d be wondering the same thing.

My mind’s been fogbound, becalmed, and similar metaphors. Words haven’t flowed off my keyboard. More like oozed out.

Inadequate sleep is either a cause or a consequence. Maybe a little of both.

Those are temporal consequences, or effects: stuff scientists can observe, measure and analyze. At least in principle.

I’ve read about statistical analyses of altruism, and that’s almost another topic.

I figure there’s a spiritual component too.

That doesn’t mean I believe Distraction crept into my head, inviting Confusion and other demonic delinquents to a party. When I get a cold, I don’t blame Demon Rhinovirus.

My best guess is that I’ve been experiencing what happens when stress, inadequate sleep and what feels like a slight cold make handling my neurological issues more challenging. Thinking that’s likely doesn’t make the problems go away, but helps me deal with them.

Maybe next week will be better. Or it might be worse. Or pretty much the same. Either way, I’ll keep going. And, I hope, writing. I’ve talked about that, and other stuff, before:

• • “Progress and Vagueness”
    (May 23, 2018)
  • “May 5, 2018: Pre-Brillig Writing Progress”
    (May 5, 2018)
  • “God Doesn’t Make Junk”
    (January 14, 2018)
  • “The Magi, Meds and Me”
    (January 7, 2018)
  • “Satan Didn’t Make Me Do It”
    (November 13, 2016)