Well, it's nearly 1am in the morning--I tried to go to bed a bit earlier, to no avail. I've been swilling Coke and Pepsi and Coffee half the day, just trying to keep my energy going--and now I'm afraid I'm paying the price for it, as I'm rather wide awake at the moment.

Just a note here, that I am indeed in horrendous pain. I am a bit gobsmacked, that I actually made six sales on my first shift--10 to 3, this afternoon, and all of them with credit cards...but, at about half-past two, I nearly passed out in my seat...but, kept on talking and made that last sale...but only after I reached behind me, and turned on the floor fan that, thank God, was standing there. I'd been rather marginal, in how I was feeling, all day, but had suddenly gotten burning hot, and quite nauseous and woozy, just out of the blue. Gave me a bit of a start, it did.

So, I wrangled my hours a bit--normally when I do the split shifts, I go home at 3 and come back at 5 for the night shift...today I coaxed my supervisor to let me do 6 to 10, instead. So, I went home, had a quick lunch and relaxed a few minutes, then hit the bed at 4, for an hour's nap. It helped some, but I only made one invoice sale (you get $1 to $5 bonus, per credit sale, so invoices are generally what we do as a last resort)--mostly I did nothing, all night...talking was sheer torture.

Basically, I have an abscess now, in my jaw/neck, that's about the size of my fist. And yes, it really, really hurts. I can't wait 'till Saturday, when I can afford to buy the medicine. I am counting the days...what's nearly as bad, today, isn't just the pain. Now, I also have this odd, slightly prickly-ticklish sensation in the base of my head and back of my neck--it really is rather uncomfortable, I must say.

I got a very nice e-mail from some person, complementing me on one of my Dr Who stories, on my DW fiction blog on WordPress. I'm always genuinely surprised--and touched as well, when someone actually likes my fiction. I find it rather dull, myself. I fear I'm not much of a story-teller, and lack the vivid imagination needed to be a good fiction writer. Atmosphere is fun to write--like Poe or one of those other Gothic horror writers. I think, maybe, having spent so much time--mostly by myself, outdoors, in every imaginable time of day and type of weather, and having been in old buildings--including one that yes, was indeed haunted...I think that's why writing an atmospheric piece appeals to me. Because I've been there, I know of what I speak, and, certainly, from this writer's point of view, finding the right words comes a lot easier, when you're already quite familiar with your subject.

Dialog is a piece of cake, as well--as long as I can hear the flow of the conversations in my head--visualize the character, their body movements, the way they speak, inside my head--well, the dialog just happens naturally. It's plot that's tough I think--not just flow, but having a solid beginning and middle, with some gripping rising action--well, you hope it's gripping...and usually, an end, as well. Though these days, that's not always the case. I do try to end each chapter in a tiny bit of a cliff-hanger, because that's one thing I've noticed that I like about some books--particularly the works of Louis L'amour, (I've read nearly every book he'd written), that thing that drives you to turn that next page--keep the ending of each chapter, making people, driving them, to desperately know what happens next. Well, aren't we all like that?

Maybe that's what keeps me here still, on planet earth, and away from the fires of Hell...wanted to know what the next chapter will bring--even tho', well I know, that next chapter could be my downfall.

It's the human drive for the proverbial greener pastures, the desire to find the next horizon, the next bend in the road, what is on the other side of the mountain...even if it means ever more, sorrow and pain---then again, it might not.