Dearest Gentle Reader (or some such bullsh*t)

I could try to write this with all the polished sharpness of Lady Whistledown, but I’m not that refined and this subject isn’t polite.

It’s raw, messy, and honest as hell.

Two weeks ago, I got so sick I ended up in the hospital for a week. When I finally came home, it took another seven days just to feel human again—never mind the follow-ups, the new forever-medication, and the reality of what just happened.

Sh*t got intense.

Full stop.

Why am I sharing this here, well, frankly because it highlighted a few ugly truths to writer-life that I felt needed to be tossed into the light. So this is me....peeling back the curtain on authorhood in a raw, ugly, unfiltered way. You're welcome.

GUESS WHAT - you can't write when you are sick.

Seriously - extra fingers - thanks AI. pfft.

Shocking, I know, but it's true.

I was weak, exhausted, dehydrated, and miserable. I no more had the energy to hold my damn head up, much less create cohesive fictional dialogue in my imaginary world while nurses shoved IV's in both my arms. What's more, had I tried to push past it...to listen to that inner bitch of a self-critic (I'm thinking of naming her Barbara) telling me I was wasting valuable creative quiet time...anything I made would have been utter garbage. That means...you guessed it...all creative work stopped. All of it. No writing, no social media posting, no newsletters or fan engagement. Nothing.

Zip. Nada. Zilch.

But did that twitchy bitch Barbara get the memo, no she did not. She had me pushing to glance at emails scan my ad numbers to check sales, and more. CLEARLY nagging me to push beyond what my body was screaming at me to do.

REST...YOU IDIOT!

Sitting here now, a solid 2 weeks post upheavel, I can see the idiocy plain as day but at the time, all i could hear was that naggy hoe telling me that I needed to push on, push more, push harder. I was so so dumb. But, guess what else I learned?

Even self-pub indie authors have to have downtime.

You see, when I came home, I gave myself a whopping 48 hours to rest and recharge. I planned to hit the ground running on Monday with full-steam work as if the week before hadn't just handed me my ass in the form of a desicated husk in need of 5 bags of hydration.

I tried to sit at my desk, filter emails, update ad work, and then start writing. Instead, I stared at my monitor until my eyes glazed over...then took a nap. Cause what I needed wasn't productivity...it was rest. And as much as my brain, and naggy Barb, screamed at me to be productive...my body took me down. Hard. It was only in the days following that I had the clarity to realize what the Rest really was.

Rest isn’t passive. It isn’t lazy. Rest is a reclaiming.

The second week, when i was at home, was the time for me to recalibrate - body and soul.

I still couldn't write, but I could be creative in other ways. I could bullet-journal a character manifesto. I could let myself play with ad creative without pressure of monetary performance. I could organize my desk, clean my emails out, and make a few necessary apppointments. All in between sleeping in, long hot showers, and fixing daily hydrating 'mocktails' to replenish all that my body lost during my hospital stay. I took small, controlled, steps to use what energy I had...while giving myself all the grace and self-love not to hate myself for it. Then, I slowly re-entered the arena when my feet were under me again. Take that, Barbara!

Full Disclosure - My business took a hit.

My social media traffic dwindle. Especially TikTok which decided to slap me back down to beginner status -- thanks for nothing. My ads slowed down, my organic traffic took a backwards dip...Oh well.

lemme say that again.

OH. WELL.

OH - MotherF*cking - WELL!

I'm only one woman. I can only do so much. I'm human.

Not to count Barbara out too soon, that broad was quick to remind me I should have batched socials to schedule out and post in my absence. I also should have hired a personal assistant to manage the administrative stuff while I recovered. But seriously, Barbara

I'm not here to SHOULD on myself!

I'd love to be successful enough one day to have assistants, and systems in place to run automatically so that when these things occur, I don't see as much of that downside. But right now, where I am creatively and with my career, those things aren't reality for me.

I can only work with what I have in front of me.

My brain, my hands, my talent, my time.

---

So the stats took a hit -- Oh well.

I didn't die. My reviews didn't disappear. I didn't miss any major deadlines. The world didn't stop spinning, and nothing was lost that can't be reclaimed over time.

I survived.

So will you.

Rest. Hydrate. Eat. Rest before you need it, even. And if your inner-Barbara has something to say about it...tell her I said f*ck off.

⭐ Craft the story.

Face the consequences.

— Rhone