Writer's block is the worst thing that can happen to any of us. The worst kind is when you have no time to write and stay busy for so long the muse commits suicide on you.

For me, my computer died. Ouch. Well, I still had notebooks and even tried writing a short children's story for my goddaughter who is staying with me. Then I got busy. So busy in fact I had not a waking moment to myself, I began to chain smoke to save my sanity, and even began laughing at nothing while talking with friends, just to stave off madness.

Stress is bad for me. I'll be honest here, like most authors I have a slight problem with depression. My problem? I live in terror of it. After 2 bouts of major depression I live in terror of falling back into it, and the number one cause of depression for me is stress. Why terror? I have experienced flat affect. I am a therapist by training and can remember people claiming flat affect is lack of showing any emotion. Until you've lived it you have no clue. It is Hell, for is such a place existed it surely could be no worse. Flat affect is the lack of being able to feel anything. In fact, if I ever experience it again I know I will commit suicide, I refuse to experience it again. Not namby-pamby poor wrist cutting, I'm talking about eating a gun, something final and Hunter S. Thompson-esque.

In the last week I've been experiencing something unusual. I know my threshold, where stress becomes depression. I passed it. I'm into new territory and I no longer know where the line is. Every single moment of every single day is terrifying for me, like a humongous roller coaster. This is a common experience for writers, and for those of you of my readers who are writers, you might understand of what I speak. If we didn't experience things so deeply, we couldn't write. So in impending tragedy the muse is reborn, what a vicious fucking cycle.

I had just gotten to a good place. I decided to re-read my first novel by sneaking it into the bathroom or out on cigarette breaks. Just as I got to the end, ready to begin work on the follow-up, my best friend who has been staying with me (along with her daughter, my terror of a goddaughter) was rushed to the emergency room. She has to have surgery and will be gone for a few days, so for the moment I get to see what life is like for single parents. I'm pretty sure I want to get my tubes tied.

I'll be okay. I have backup plans, my brother checks on me daily, and I have plenty of cigarettes. I am slowly editing the next book whenever my goddaughter naps and slowly but surely the muse is coming back. 

Updates to the site will be regular again and we'll continue with the Writing 102 series. Until then my pathos goes into my noir. Happy writing and reading, my friends!