I could have SWORN there were a few more steps on those stairs, but when I put my right foot down, I sure as hell didn't FEEL any stairs beneath my foot. Tumbled down three (missing?) steps, hit the concrete wall with my arm, skinned my elbow, twisted my right ankle inwards and toward me when I landed.
Luckily, there was no snapping, no crunching noises, and I can limp on it, although it's sprained. Unfortunately, it was my right leg so the tweaking of ankle tendons and muscles shot up into my bad knee and it's making complaints.
Still, no broken bones which is good because we cannot afford an ER visit for Xrays with Spike out of work. Damn stairs, damn haunted house, and damn my stupidity.
So, my writing the past couple of days has been minimal. Trying to keep my foot up and resting. We live in a house that has two sets of stairs. The main floor to the basement and main floor to the bedrooms upstairs. Oh, did I mention our house is haunted too? Yep.
Got feedback for my newest story posting on Literotica. From a published author even. It was because of this author that I started to post my writing, as crappy as it was.
"Very good start but that should definitely not surprise me. Your work is always top notch. Keep it up!"
This published author helped to encourage me to post my work and improve my writing. I was her fan of hers and now she's a fan of mine. Dragging myself out of bed when I need to sleep, when I'm in pain, when my keyboard is broken, when I'm sick, when there's no words. I'm pushing, pushing to write, pushing to learn, pushing to better myself in some way with the ultimate goal of getting published.
And I keep writing, with a diehard goal to be published, because I want it with every fiber of my being.