This week has mostly been about the mucus. Having come down with yet another Cold From Hell, I’ve been thanking my lucky stars that my job involves sitting in bed, staring at the Netbook for hours at a time.
To distract myself from the disturbing death rattles emanating from my chest, I focused on my writing goals for 2011. I’d vowed to start a writing blog (done!), I vowed to write every day on the WIP (mostly done), and also to try something new. I always say that I don’t ‘do’ short stories, so yesterday I wrote one. About a zombie.
Of course, it hasn’t all been about the typing and the Lemsip and the fun family game ‘name that snot’. No, I’ve had to venture outside, too. There are pesky chores like grocery shopping (what do you mean we can’t eat pasta and pesto again?) and the school run.
Yesterday, I was blethering to my mum about my zombie story, enjoying the fact that my hoarse voice makes me sound like an actual adult human instead of a hyperactive six-year-old who has just discovered helium, when she gave a wry smile and said: “I wonder what inspired that.”
It wasn’t until I got into the car and caught sight of my waxy complexion, the dark circles around my eyes and my slightly glassy stare that I got her meaning.
Zombie snot. Inspiring? Yes. Attractive? Not so much.
[Image credit: free vector graphic from Ben Blogged]