Things went from bad to worse the other day and I really didn't know what I would do, but I did get on my knees and pray like a failing student before Final Exams. (I can honestly say that I was a failing student who prayed before Final Exams and received a rather miraculous B. My Math Teacher was flabbergasted. I HAD to get at least a B to pass. But I digress.)
I find it difficult to stay on point with my writing when bad things are happening around or to me, though I have had some surprising bursts of creativity while ill. I'm sure I'm not the only writer out there who feels a halt in the flow of their creative juices when troubles arise. However, how many of the great writers out there sat in icy garrets with only a candle to warm them and a dry crust of bread for a meal and yet managed to scribble away on the next great novel with a driven madness? Probably more of them than is known.
Was it that sense of "got nothing else to lose" that got them through those tough times or was it the creative fire inside of them that kept them going?
I like to think that it was God, even if they didn't know it at the time.
Have a pleasant Sunday evening, my friends.
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