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Writing, dreams, yadda yadda yadda…

New desk makes me work. I love it. I’ve been really focused writing wise lately and it feels good to finally be getting stuff accomplished again.

In relation to writing this week:

– I asked Heath to act out a romantic scene with me for my book to make sure the way I wrote it was natural. Somehow he turned it into a comedy. He whacked me in the head in a Heisman pose, walked towards me like a thug player, and knocked me over once he reached me. It just didn’t work; he couldn’t be serious enough to do it the right way. I wanted to be mad, but I couldn’t help but laugh.

– I told my mom that I was thinking about killing off one of my characters. She lost it when I told her it was the dog. She said, “I won’t read the rest of your book Sarah if you kill that dog!” Every other thing I brought up about my book after that she interrupted me to further illustrate how much she didn’t want the dog to die. “I’m serious Sarah, don’t kill Déjà.” She’s too funny.

And then semi book related:

I woke up this morning from a creepy dream – mainly because of how real it felt. I had to write it down as soon as I got up.

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It was early summer when I found out I wouldn’t live past Christmas. They said, “The cancer is out of control Miss. I’m sorry there’s nothing we can do for you.” They handed me a stack of informational packets, a series of medications to make my last days “enjoyable”, and sent me on my way.

When I exited the hospital I just stood there on the sidewalk stunned. The sun blinding my eyes, my arms rendered useless with all of the crap in my hands, and feeling oddly glad that I was alone right now.

Cancer, really? I’m not sure why I was so surprised, several family members on both sides have fallen victim to cancer. But the difference was – they were sick and got better. I wasn’t even sick, but I was going to die. I had simply went to the doctor for a routine check up only to find out my body is riddled with death and my days are numbered. I’m only 28 and generally healthy, how freaking unfair is that?

Suddenly my knees hit the hot concrete; the junk in my hands fell into a pile around me. I stared stupidly at a pill bottle escaping the mess, finally stretching for it when it was almost too far to reach. People passed me by, no one offering to help me up. I didn’t really care, or notice them truthfully; I was trying to swallow the knot in my throat.

I’m going to die. My mind kept repeating it to me as if I needed a reminder. Everything about this news hurt more than one might expect because today had so much potential. How could it be that on the day I find out my book will be published, I also find out I will only be alive for maybe a month more after it’s release? It didn’t feel real. It felt completely real. Finally I cried.

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*Note – My book is not being published, nor do I have cancer. It was just a dream.*

Outside of writing this week, I finally got to play Rock Band and Guitar Hero after a years wait for our xbox to be fixed. I was all pumped up to play, plugged in my guitar – handed Heath the wireless one and NEITHER of them worked. One of them has never even been used, how can it not work?! I was so irritated. So I played with the remote like the old days, but it was no where near as fun.

I’m looking forward to the weekend for no particular reason. The weather is supposed to be nice and there is a carnival at the fair grounds – been a while since I’ve been to one of those, so maybe… I’ll probably stay in and write though, because that’s what I usually do being a creature of habit and all.

Peace – Sarah

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