I have a cold, possibly bronchitis, and I've re-established my intense love affair with NyQuil. Rest is good. I could use cough drops, herbal remedies, whiskey, regular cough syrup, or a hundred other things to help with the congestion and stuffiness, but I NyQuil in a half dose does wonders for hours on end without having to re-administer while still remaining awake. My liver and kidneys are thankful for this discovery, but my sense of self is somewhat out of whack.
After my dose kicked in earlier today, I had the brilliant idea to start work on the characters for a possible novel and to work a little on the story arc. After the NyQuil wore off, I started to go over what I'd come up with, and I realized that NyQuil installs within me a portion of grandeur that is entirely too large. My ego could barely withstand the disappointment in my own abilities once I went back to what I'd written.
Really, I thought the idea of a woman who was blind and couldn't see her present surroundings, but she could see the past and the future as clearly as if it were happening before working eyes in the present was an absolutely brilliant idea to base an entire novel on. A whole novel! Now that I'm not completely impaired, I can see that this is a good idea for a supporting character in a fantasy novel, but not the main character in a series of stories and incidents.
Another of my ideas was to include a race of people that live underwater whose sole purpose in existing is making waves. Honestly, I thought it was utterly brilliant. As a supporting cast of characters to support a world's mythology or creation story, this could work. However, I can't for the life of me fathom what use they could possibly have beyond that now. I have a niggling feeling that I had a use for them at the time, and that it was amazing and so simply profound that it would make readers weep, but... such is not the case at the moment.
The final amazing idea I had was to begin writing chapters. I got ~2500 words in before the NyQuil induced illusions of grandeur wore off. I went back to read what I'd written. The dedication of such a piece, had I finished it, would have had to have read "For NyQuil - to the readers, a warning. Please ingest some of the very same before you attempt to make sense of this wandering, meandering gibberish."
As fun as a NyQuil haze is while it's happening, I don't want to tell readers they need to be somewhat high before attempting to understand what I've written. How embarrassing would that be? A word to any writers out there, whether aspiring, attempting to do it for a living, or doing so already -- medications, even those as unassuming as NyQuil, will affect your perspective. No matter how inspired and amazing you think your words are, re-read once no longer under the influence. Hemmingway you likely are not.