It’s almost 6:30 pm and I'm finally in good enough shape to start writing. I woke up this morning at 5:30 am as planned, but felt pretty darn awful. Yesterday I bought Theraflu, zinc, vitamin C and Ricola. I melt the lozenges in the Theraflu, creating a disgusting, but seemingly effective concoction that provides relief for about four hours. After that, I feel my body going downhill again. This morning I worked for two hours, came home, climbed in the bed and shivered for a short while. Finally, after completely wrapping myself in blankets and sweatshirts, I was warm enough to fall asleep. I know that some of this is due to lack of sleep and the constant pushing of the body towards feats it wishes not to perform, such as working seven days a week. So, next week, even though I am the classic workaholic, I will take one full day off from both jobs. Monday I will not work. I have to keep telling myself that over and over again. For a few minutes, even though my head was swimming with sickness, I was on the hunt for more work shifts. Then I had to tell myself to put the computer down and rest.

I’ve slept a great deal today and even though I am far from better, I know the rest helped.
Now that the fever has subsided, I feel well enough to write. Another perk of being a writer, your office can be anywhere. This evening my bed serves as my office. I’m still wrapped in blankets with just my hands peeking out to peck the computer keys. I’ve ordered pizza simply because I haven’t been shopping this week and I can’t find the energy to go out and buy something. I also could use some comfort and unfortunately no one is available so I’m turning to food tonight. Being sick makes me sad. Pizza makes me happy. If that is a low-grade psychosis, or an inept coping skill, I’m willing to accept these faults on this evening.

I’ve been working on scenes for Kelly and Ian and even though a lot of what I’ve written is in serious need of a rewrite, I think I also have written some useful material that can be added to the chapters I already have. The chapters I have need to be rounded out, not thrown out. At this, time they are satisfactory. They do the job but they aren’t great. I want my novel to be great, so I need to continue to polish and add to the chapters as I go along.

Doing a character sketch for Ian is not as easy as I thought it would be. As I construct the sketch I can see my dislike for him become more apparent. Weak men are my pet peeve. Men who complain about their lives and continue to make bad decisions that lead them further down a path of destruction are common, in my experience. But there are great men in the world who work to solve not just their own problems, but the problems of others as well. Ian feels sorry for himself but he used to have an inclination to be a problem solver. He has lost some of his desire to solve anything, to alcohol. However, there was a time when he was healthier and eager to be a good man. I want that to be reflected in his character. I don’t want people to think he is an awful person because he wasn’t always what he’s become. Ian is a man who has failed at many things but no one plans to be a failure. There was a time when he was intent on being successful. He just never figured out how to be that.

Ian struggles with identity. Or at least, I believe anyone who ends up being clueless about their own life, struggles with identity. One of my favorite questions to ask people is, ”What do you want to do?” I leave it open ended so they are free to respond in terms of a career, life, the world, etc. You don’t have to have all the answers but you have to this particularly important one. I'm always surprised that so many people don’t have an answer. A few weeks ago a friend of mine, who has never been able to answer this simple question, told me that his goal was to have a “normal life”. I have no idea what that means or why anyone would want to be “normal”, but I know that lack of knowledge of yourself will lead to over-generalized, watered down wants such as this. I believe this is what has happened to Ian.

Struggles with identity are foreign battles to me. It could be due to the fact that I’ve spent so much time by myself, talking over the finer points of life in my own brain, that I’ve just never had that problem. I don’t think I have some secret knowledge or ability to know myself better than others, I just think I place more importance on knowing myself than many people do. I know what I want. Always. I’m never on the fence about things. I may let some situations linger and fester, but I always know what I want. Some decisions are harder to make than others, even if you know it’s the right decision.

When it comes to Ian I have to be careful not to punish him for not knowing himself. It will be a tough chore because I think self-identity is the most important thing an individual can have. Not what your parents’ tell you to be or what society dictates into your ear, what you want to be. It’s getting late and I must get started. I believe writing this made me feel a little bit better. So I'm off to my little world of words.