Speedbumps: A Writer's Nightmare

          The last thing I remember was the plastic mask slipping over my face and the slipping of what felt like a scorpion's tail in my arm. They had asked me to sign one last waiver, and in the reclined chair, one arm hooked to a machine measuring my heart rate, everything went black as they pulled the clipboard away.
          When I woke up, I was sitting in the passenger seat of my mother's Honda Fit, holding a strawberry shake from In n Out with the lid and straw missing, blood on the cup's lip. My head throbbed. Even worse, my cheeks felt punched by the same IV that had been stapled to my arm. I felt happy. I leaned to my driver and told her thanks, that I loved her, and that In n Out was the shit.
         For the next few days, I stayed in bed with pain medicine and antibiotics at the ready. Books were thrown on the floor. I had no interest in Watership Down outside of wanting to hold a rabbit and squeeze it between jaw spasms. My mind was entirely on sleeping off the pain and medicating myself back to sleep. I still wonder if I need a slip of pills just to fall asleep.
          Everything I've worked on until this point has stopped. I have one piece moving around with my beta-readers, but it's due for submission before March. My novel hit 30,000 words a week ago. I posted on Facebook in joy, for it's an achievement I've never thought I would ever reach. Now, it feels like a past vacation that had too many good memories.
          Wisdom teeth or not, there are many reasons why writers pull away from their workload. For me, I can't handle the mix of pain and creation. Creation is birth, and while some argue that birth is pain, this birth is not. For others, the loss of a home or loved one might draw him out of his creative world. It really depends on the person; however, it's not something we surely want to explore.
          My jaws feel tender, but I can sit in a chair and read, now. The words pepper into my mind better than before. I know I should have my glasses on. The steam of a bowl of soup keeps me focused, because my mind is keeping me working for the next spoonful of noodles.
          Work will return next week, and writing will fall back into my life on weekends, days off from homework or studies, maybe. It's hard to say when those days are, but I plan to let them come, and when they do, I'll feel healthy once again.
         

A Hobbit and Several Spiders

          The bathroom is one of the only places in my home where I can escape to read another chapter or sentence without being disturbed. I pick the parent's bathroom, because there's a heater, and even if I've never felt a mid-western freeze, a cold seat is a cold seat with jeans or without. Sometimes, I get through a couple chapters. It really depends on the book.
          Reading allows me to escape. Like many, I find that some books pull stress away better than others. Just recently, I finished J. R. R. Tolkien's The Hobbit. This was one book I actually was able to finish in bed. It wasn't because of my family, however.
          Above the toilet in my parent's restroom looms a web that stretches from the window to the towel racks, and changing his place every visit, the spider is a bulb with matchsticks for legs. Flies hang, and dust weighs the web down further.
          In The Hobbit, Bilbo handles giant, menacing spiders with the power of his one ring (which we all know without even having to read the damn thing). The spiders have his friends hang from cocoons, and their noses and toes poke out, letting Bilbo know who's who.
         I didn't even realize this bug of mine was watching me until something fell and rolled down my bare-back one morning. I jumped from the seat, clothed (no, I wasn't doing anything, just reading). Standing, I hit the web. More touches me. Thankfully, the only person awake was my father, and he spends his time in the back, so he didn't hear me yelp like a wounded Old Yeller.
        In comparison, the spiders in Tolkien's novel aren't that scary. They talk and plan, something we don't see from spiders. To me, this humanizes them and makes them no more scarier than the hairy guy in the Big Bird suit on TV. Real spiders, things, terrorize us because we as readers or viewers don't see the mind behind the creature, demon, or spirit. In literature, we see the effect it brings on the protagonists or unlucky side characters, but not once are we told why something does what it does. Worst of all, if our characters are weak or injured, our hearts begin to pound at these things.
       My spider is still hanging over the toilet, but I duck my head as to not disturb him. He's gained some new trophies, and had I caught them, I wouldn't want someone to knock them into a bowl. It turns out this is a new spider, with even thinner legs and larger eyes. My spider, who I knocked and hollered at during those early morning hours, hangs in one corner, bundled up into a sack.

Further Confusion, a Not so Confusing Trip

          Walking to a Safeway started my morning, and already, I had seen several convention goers in large animal costumes and uniforms from various anime shows. The sky was open, free of clouds, and the sun warmed me even with the sixty degree temperature. On my back, I carried my bag with a legal pad, box of business cards, and a copy of The Hobbit. Only thing I had forgotten was my room key.
          Further Confusion (FC) is a convention that takes place in San Jose, California, and focuses on anthropomorphic animals and illustrations, something still popular since the years of Disney's The Lion King. Artists, writers, and costumers network and sell their wares and creations. Taking place in a hotel, the convention allows for parties as well, and even with no sense of smell, I can feel the alcohol radiate from the fox I pass by.
          I reach the Safeway with my two roommates, both who are creators of these expensive suits. We pick up sandwich bread and bananas (non-organic due to price). Also, I take this chance to get breakfast. After a walk back, we collapse on our room's beds. A stack of newly purchased novels lay next to me. No spending, I tell myself.
         Outside of buying stuff, there were panels to attend as well as hold. I didn't make it to any of the writing panels I wished to see, but I was on a panel with Kyell Gold and Watts Martin, two authors who are known around the fandom for their fiction. The panel discussed releasing stories and publishing. I focused more so on magazines, blogging and twitter. Questions were passed around for us until the two hours ended, and everyone went on his or her way.
          For me, conventions and conferences present the opportunity to network, unlike what staying behind a keyboard and screen does. Publishers attend as well as fans, and several of my own friends are artists, like my roommates. They spent their time selling behind desks. I lumbered around when I could and helped if they needed it.
          The most important thing for me, however, is getting grounded, and FC allows that. I get to remember my start as a writer, my stressful growth from where I once was. I attended these events with my partner at the time, more focused on the party aspect, but the real thing that draws myself and others is the passion. The time spent on the works seen crawls with it. When people state they wake up in the morning to write, illustrate, or sing, it shows here. It is inspiring, simply. And the energy pushed around gets me working.
          For now, I'm back home and resting. I have started a new piece, and the novel I have been working through is also under heavy focus still. School is coming up, and work is still keeping me busy.
          It's as though I have stepped out of a dream world, and reality is slowly coming back to me. The memories I've made this FC will stay with me, and I look forward to the next upcoming event on my schedule, The San Gabriel Valley Literary Festival. 2014 is turning out to be a great year, and I couldn't be happier.


Kyell gold is the author of Out of Position, Green Fairy, and other anthropomorphic texts. His work can be found on Sofawolf.com.

Information for The San Gabriel Valley Literary Festival can be found at SGVlitfest.com.