My sister’s posted a short blog about the reason she’s doing the Unity Walk for Parkinson’s Australia. It goes a little something like this:
My Dad was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease in 2003, although in hindsight, he had probably been suffering some of the symptoms for about fifteen years before that.
Since the diagnosis came through, Dad has accepted this condition that life has chosen for him. He’s never once asked ‘Why me?’, I’ve never heard him complain, he accepts the physical limitations imposed on him, and while he doesn’t often ask for help, he does accept it gratefully when offered.
Parkinson’s Queensland have been an enormous help to Dad, and Mum, who is inevitably his primary carer. They were there to offer advice on what medical staff in hospital needed to know when Dad had his heart operation last year. They provide visits to centres to show what little devices around the home are going to make life just a little bit easier. And they offer support to thousands of Parkinson’s sufferers across Queensland, just like Dad.
So Sunday, I’ll be walking for Dad, and the many thousands like him across Queensland. Thank you for your support.
At this point Sally’s raised the $1,000 she was aiming for (already $500 more than she initially thought she’d get), making her the third-highest fund-raiser for the walk at the time I’m posting this. Given that she’s only $500 off becoming the second highest fund-raiser of the walk, I figured I’d make another mention of her walk and point people in the direction of her donation page, just in case you’ve found five bucks hiding in the back of your couch and you aren’t entirely sure what to do with it.
And she’s right about all the things she says here, especially the stuff about my dad, but it doesn’t change the baseline message. Parkinson’s sucks; Parkinson’s Queensland is a source of help for people who need it long-term.
Besides, the Spokesbear totally thinks you should donate a couple of bucks, and there is no choice but to obey the spokesbear.
So this weird thing has been happening for the past couple of days, and it largely goes something like this. I’ll boot up Fritz the Laptop and think, “I’ll just write 1,000 words on the next Flotsam story,” and then I’ll sit there and write 1,000 words or so over the course of an hour or two. The number is kind of variable – today was a 2k day, after all, because I was over Write Clubbing with Angela Slatter, and some days I’m aiming for 500 words instead – but by and large the result is the same. Pick a number, write that much, walk away feeling content that I’ve done enough.
This is not the way my writing process goes. I know, because I’ve been training myself to embrace this process ever since I started the old day-job back in November of last year. My process is resistant to the idea of enough, it’s resistant to the idea of hitting goals, and its generally slow (like, snail with a broken leg slow).
Because I am nothing if I do not have da-writing-dramaz, I have decided this should freak me out a little. Because I have deadlines, however, I’ve decided to let it freak me out *after* the next Flotsam installment is done. All I have to do is write 2,000 words a day for the next three days, and I should be comfortably done with the first draft. My little nervous break-down about suddenly becoming competent and guilt-free can wait until then.
The Spokesbear, of course, just gives me serious and exasperated looks, muttering something about horses, gifts, and mouths.