I physically can’t write at the moment

I currently can’t touch type.

This blog is being dictated directly to my phone. I’ve had reconstructive surgery on my left arm so when I move it over the keyboard it hurts like hell. Why was I operated on? I snapped a tendon from lifting a heavy suitcase into a taxi during my extended travels.


I have a brief appointment to pitch a book to an agent in several days. I have a good version of the manuscript but not a perfect one. I’ve hand-written the edits on a printed version but have not been able to polish up the word document. And as much as I hate not being professional, trying to correct the manuscript may put me back in hospital.

So for a little more than a month, this writer isn’t writing. 

I have been reading though, more than usual. I also haven’t felt guilty for not writing. I can’t reply to tweets that ask “How many words have you written today?” And I noticed two emails I dictated to my publisher had spelling errors I didn’t notice before I hit send.

I also have an actor lined up for a book trailer shoot, which I physically can’t produce at the moment. I can’t tie my shoelaces. I can’t cuddle my husband properly. I can’t drive. And I can’t use nail clippers with my left hand. The pain. Oh, the pain.

With fabulous Gina, and my husband, Warren.

But it’s been nice to take time out.

My husband and I are taking long walks almost every day. Watching television has become part of my rehabilitation rather than a waste of time. I’ve become a human being rather than a human doing.

And this has become a nice change in my life. A lesson to keep living after I repair.

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