Heather's Got Her Mother Effing ZING Back

Babes, I've got the ZING back.
ZING, I tell you. Mother EFFING ZING.

Ahem. Let me tell you where the zing went. The zing went down the rabbit hole of crazy ass migraine associated vertigo-ville of foggy fogs-land where I lived for a couple years until, like Alice, I took some magic effing pills (in my case, migraine medicine), and suddenly, like mother EFFING MAGIC---

------MAGIC, I'm telling you my babies, MAGIC, I feel like my old self again.

See the thing I hadn't realized down in rabbit hole fogsville was that in addition to the crazy ass vertigo and then oh yeah the crazy ass migraines that were a new addition this year was that there was some side effects of cognitive funk going on that was fogging up me old brain space so that I was this foggy narrow ass shell of the cool punk chick I used to be.

I mean, sure, I was still occasionally hella cool, but the ZING, the sparky creative kick, the up all night dreamin' of wicked, wicked things I wanted to do to my characters, all the happy sparkly dreaming in the shower and THINKING about stuff and nothing in particular, the letting my mind day-dream and niggle over thoughts and catty-wompus over this and that and all the things in between and back and forth to my characters and their situations and then back again to the wicked, heart-breaking things I wanted to put them through---that had been gone. And it's back. Oh my God, it's back. I didn't even realize it was gone and now it's back! And it's not just the writing, kids. It's life I feel the ZING for again. Oh God, it's like a rush of fresh air breathing back into my lungs again. It's like I'm back in my own skin again.

Um, moral of this story? Praise the heavens for a good neurologist.

And look forward, my babies, because I've got one freaking good mother effin' book in the burners for ya'll!