I came down with an upper respiratory virus last Saturday evening. On Sunday night, I began writing something, previously described in the last blog post. I've been testing my limits by not taking any sick time, by going to work every day this week, not letting this virus kick my butt. Work has been busier than ever and extremely stressful all week, but I stuck with it every day and dragged myself home exhausted every afternoon. However, I've been motivated to write this story that wants to be told. Every night I've eaten dinner, played with the cats for a few minutes and then written from 6:30PM to 11:30PM. This morning I reached 30,747 words, 13 chapters written and some of the most gruesome, graphic stuff I have ever put into print. It is one young woman's headlong, dangerous journey through a world perilously controlled by treacherous men who assign little value to females other than recreational use for purposes of pleasure.
I still don't know where this is going, but it's leading me to places I never expected to find myself.
Maybe it's the virus talking? We'll just have to see where this all goes.
The name of the now novella sized story is The Worth of A Woman.
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