Sometimes life works like that. I like to think of the random chaos that springs from nowhere as plot. I just got a plot twist. Or to quote my favorite of all movies (okay I can't pick favorites but it's way up toward the top) "You just got hit. The getting up is up to you."
Fast forward a few scenes to my oldun' days. All of a sudden I'm having whispers of the old anxiety again. I think WTF? I thought I killed you years ago. I walk out in the sun a little more (which requires surgically removing my fingers from the keyboard) I exercise, and I breathe... I manage. Plot twist handled.
Except the lumpy thyroid shit is back too. My kiddo goes in for a sore throat and her doctor pins me to the wall about the state of my throat. Yeah, okay, I've been ignoring it. So I get to start all this again and I think, a little more weakly...plot twist?
I think, maybe they're related? What if there's a connection between the mood disorder and the weird growth in my throat? Maybe it's an alien parasite.... okay, maybe that last one is a bit out there. BUT...I'm not a doctor, I'm a writer. This is what I do.
I make connections. I fictionalize. I write. It's a kind of therapy in its own right. You get hit, you translate it into plot, you use it to go on. Get back up. And you write as fast as you can in case the plot twist kills you before you finish the next book!
Next week, I'll get back to critique. And the movie, if you're the sort that's still trying to figure it out, was The Ghost and the Darkness.