But my dad would come to my house and tell me, Susie God's just sending your blessings in spike-heeled shoes to walk across your back! You work too much. You do too much for the kids. You're exhausted. Maybe this is the only way your body can tell you to rest. So he'd send me outside to lay in the sun with a glass of orange juice( my dad's cure of all ailments) and spend the day reading and playing with the kids. I realized during those times when I couldn't walk across the room with become breathless, that while sitting, waiting laying in bed, waiting for the latest adjustment of my doctors, that these 90 days of misery were actually when I did my best writing. Everything about me slowed down. I couldn't do much but weave story lines in my head. A good day was a 1000 words, but I was less likely to leave those words on the cutting room floor. And in 90 days or so, I'd wake up with my usual spring in my step, ready to take on the world, with a really good start to a new novel.
People ask me how I've written 25 novels in 25 years. My blessings walk across my back in spike-heeled shoes. I'm about 60 days into my latest thyroid crash. I feel lousy, but I don't get angry about it any more. I put the time to use and I write and I wait, knowing this too shall pass.
I think of my dad often. I miss him. He passed in 98. In my 25th book I made sure Dad's favorite phrase was an overall theme in my book. All my characters did not get their blessings gift wrapped. We are stepping into their lives while they are walking across their back in spike-heeled shoes.
The Girl on the Half Shell