Muscle memory.

Learning how to walk again after a serious injury is an experience. I got switched to a walking cast about three weeks ago - not one of those sturdy-looking air casts, mind you, but a cement cast, similar to the fiberglass, with a dorky-looking sandal/shoe that you strap to your foot, that looks like something you definitely should not be putting any weight on.

I began by using both of my crutches for support, essentially mimicking the action of walking. "Yes, I remember this, heel-toe, heel-toe, wonderful, just grand." The first day, my knee joint felt like it might explode, understandably, since I hadn't used it for eight weeks. Then, gradually, I was able to hobble around the apartment successfully enough, so I began just using one crutch, on the left side.

Hurrah, now I was able to actually carry a glass of juice or a plate of food from the kitchen to the other room, rather than putting my comestibles in a container with a lid and placing it in a tote bag around my neck, not unlike a Saint Bernard.

I won't lie, it hurt at first, both at the break site and I don't know, my knee, my ankle, my foot, my back... (I know you're singing that Khia song in your head right now, don't lie to me) There were days where I overdid it the day before, and I would lie on the couch all day feeling exhausted and depressed, cursing the slow march of progress.

Around the same time, I decided that I really wanted something to show for this sedentary period, a revisiting of my creative pursuits that I could wave around as proof that this time actually had meaning, as opposed to just some random accident that completely fucked up everything. I had started writing a novel for NaNoWriMo back in 2015, of which I completed maybe a little more than half, maybe a little less than three-quarters. Over the years, I've gone back and added some more here and there, but never really committed to finishing the damn thing.

What a great goal, and how bad-ass does that sound: "By the time this cast is off my leg, I will have finished the first draft of my novel."

So I opened up the document (last save, July 2016), said "Hello, this is your creator speaking" to all of my forgotten characters, and got right down to typing.

Almost immediately, I got ideas that would fill plot holes that had been evading me for literal years. I rewrote some dialogue, bringing characters into the foreground that had been pretty one-dimensional before. "Yes, I remember this, show, don't tell, wonderful, just grand."

Not unlike re-learning to walk, I'm re-learning how to tell the story inside me. And on all counts, it feels pretty dang great.