I was reading another blogger's posting and had to laugh. She wrote that downtime is creative time. I've usually found the opposite to be true.
When I broke my back in two places a couple years ago, I was sure I would write prolifically. Didn't happen. I spent the time in a chair watching endless junk. Finally, my daughter got me the Sharpe series of books by Bernard Cornwell. They filled my soul. Lots of battles with swords and such. So I spent my time in recuperation with a British soldier. Fun. But no writing done.
Now I'm in the midst of this battle and finding that again, I have no compunction to write. I discovered that this can be overcome with will and the Muse breathing down my throat. It's not pleasant, but it's doable.
Last night was the first night I have slept more than three hours. For weeks now, I've been battling pain and it usually hits right around the time I slip under my bed covers. Cute!
I woke up this morning around 9ish, took my granddaughter to ballet, then came home and fell asleep. Never woke till around 6ish. Must have needed it.
I'm hoping the meds will kick in soon and my metabolism will kick back up -- and I'll be able to write. Until then, of course, the story and the characters fill my mind. Whisphering, ever whispering. Thankfully!
Life is recovering.