What My Concussion Taught Me About Writing

It’s been eleven days since I left the emergency room, and I’m still recovering – slowly – but I’m recovering.

I had experienced a relatively mild, seven-day virus. After spending a week taking it easy, resting a lot, and drinking copious fluids, I felt like my body needed some movement.

I hopped on my treadmill and started walking at a low speed. Ten minutes into my walk (which was at the pace of a grandmother using a walker), I blacked out and hit the ground.

I had no warning. One minute, I was walking, and the next minute, my husband was kneeling on the ground next to me, telling me to wake up.

I opened my eyes. I felt sleepy, relaxed, and unbothered.

“Is my face okay?” I asked him as I slowly pushed myself off the ground.

Considering my vanity a good sign, my husband helped me stand up and supported me while I limped along. Other than two bloodied knees, nothing else hurt - yet. But then, after several minutes, my head started to spin. I was feeling lightheaded, dizzy, and faint.

We called our doctor, who insisted we go to the emergency room. After an EKG, blood tests, IV bags, and chest x-rays, they surmised I passed out due to the virus and sent me home. At the time, they had not diagnosed a concussion. They simply ruled out a heart attack, a blood clot, and a stroke.

Days later, when I met with my doctor, she was shocked to learn the ER hadn’t sent me for a CAT scan. She was confident I had a concussion after noting my long list of symptoms.

The lightbulb turned on. At my doctor’s office, I used more descriptive and precise words to describe my symptoms. At the ER, I had been ill-equipped to explain what I remembered and what I was feeling. After all, my emotions and nerves were at an all-time high.

At the ER, I said, “I passed out.”

At my GP’s, I elaborated, explaining that I was walking, and then the next thing I knew, I woke up on the ground to the sound of my husband’s voice. Everything had gone black. There had been no warning, no signs of lightheadedness, nothing.

At the ER, I used the word “dizzy.”

At my GP’s, I described the sensation of my brain buzzing from too many stimuli: people talking, loud noises, the car moving fast. This resulted in feeling lightheaded, difficulty focusing my vision, and feeling as if I might faint.

You get the point. The words I used in the ER were insufficient in describing what I was experiencing, and since there wasn’t a lump on my head, I wasn’t given the diagnosis of a concussion.

While it will be a while before I complete further testing to diagnose or rule out the cause of my blackout (it’s hopefully related to a drop in blood pressure from my virus), in the meantime, I am managing my concussion symptoms.

Here is what my concussion has taught me about writing.

Choose Your Words Wisely

When writing a first draft, you will likely have many areas requiring refinement during revision. Regardless of the author’s experience, finding the correct words takes time and consideration, and you must repeatedly envision each scene as if you were experiencing it yourself.

The first draft offers us the opportunity to get to know our story. No matter how well you plot your outline, stories naturally evolve as you spend more time with them. Characters develop into people you grow to love and lead us to places we could never have anticipated visiting. Therefore, it’s reasonable to expect that we won’t always have the best words on the first pass.

In the book Writing Down the Bones by Natalie Greenberg, she states that revision is “envisioning again,” which is a lovely term for the process. During revision, you will have a better sense of place, time, and people. Consequently, you will have better tools to choose the right words to help the reader experience what you want them to experience.

Rest Your Brain

When you break your arm, you rest it. Likewise, when you injure your brain, it needs rest, too. I was told I would heal faster if I refrained from using my iPhone, watching T.V., scrolling, reading, and writing. As you can imagine, it’s been a struggle.

For writers, resting your brain occasionally can help break through creative stagnation. I often discuss the importance of meditation for clearing the mind because when the mind is clear, it allows more room for creativity.

When you feel stuck, overwhelmed, or discouraged in your writing, stop and rest your brain. While it may feel nice to distract yourself with electronics, it won’t give you the reset your mind needs. Instead, stare out the window and notice life. Getting quiet is the antidote to stagnation.

Our job as writers is to expose the ordinary as extraordinary. Take the snippet below. It’s a simple observation of nature that requires stillness, quieting, and attention.

“Sunbeams of amber light highlight a patch of grass. The fluorescent blades shine, making the others look dark, forgotten among the shadows. Tiny bugs flitter about, not caring where they land. They know what they are doing; they have a purpose. Life is in motion…”

The ordinary is made extraordinary by simply paying attention. But to pay attention, we must quiet all the other stuff. Rest your brain from the business of life and see what sprouts.

Know Your Limits

I got back on the treadmill two days ago. This time, I stepped onto the platform with a lot more trepidation and respect than I’ve ever shown that machine. Attaching the ‘shut off’ security clip to my shirt, I walked at a pace a centenarian could beat and stopped when I felt my body struggle.

My limit for writing is about four hours at a time per story. Beyond that, I don’t have much to offer the paper. Sometimes, pushing through those four hours is helpful, but sometimes it’s not. I’ve learned that when my brain begins to struggle, it’s time to take a walk, do laundry, or switch to another project.

Listen to your inner voice when you are struggling. Writing every day for a certain number of hours becomes an arbitrary demand if it doesn’t produce quality work. It’s a delicate dance of knowing when to push and knowing when to take a break. As you pay more attention to your inner state and the quality of your output, this dance becomes more intuitive.

Don’t Give Up

I’m lucky to have a GP who listens and takes me seriously. I’m confident that with ongoing tests and specialists, we will rule out what needs to be ruled out and discover what needs to be discovered. However, if I didn’t have a doctor I trusted, I would get a second opinion and keep searching to find the source of the issue.

Writers need that perseverance to keep on going, too. If one agent rejects your manuscript, keep pitching until you find one willing to take you on. If you receive a lot of rejections for one piece of work, get support from an editor and refine it before sending it out again. Keep on keeping on and write.

When I was a private chef, one night, one of the kids complained about a meal. The other chef I worked with stepped in and said, “They can’t all be winners.” The response wasn’t defensive, it was matter of fact. It was the perfect response because it’s true. Not every meal earns a Michelin star.

Likewise, not every book will be a winner. But whatever you do, if writing is your passion, keep writing and don’t give up.

Make Peace With What Is

I may be feeling out of sorts for a couple of weeks or longer. The spectrum for concussion recovery is vast. Regardless, life goes on. I have adapted and will continue to adapt as best I can.

Whatever stage of writing you are in, first draft, revision, or publishing, make peace with the process. I know it’s easier said than done, but there’s no use fighting where you are. Each stage brings you closer to where you want to be and, therefore, is entitled to a bit of reverence.

In my latest manuscript, I struggled with the first draft. In the beginning, I was off and running, but then life happened, that darn middle reared its ugly head, and the psychological blocks manifested.

Now that I’ve completed the first draft and am about to embark on revision, the first draft suddenly seems more appealing. Looking back, I wish I had enjoyed the ride more. Because once the ride is over, there is no going back and re-experiencing it in the same way.

Make peace with wherever you are in your writing process because there is beauty in it all. Sure, there’s plenty of crappy parts, too, but that’s the balance. The problematic parts make us appreciate the fun parts, and the fun parts give us hope that the problematic parts won’t last. The “now” is all there is, so do your best to embrace it.

There may be a day when I look back on this blip on my timeline and wish I had enjoyed it more. A brain injury has been a good excuse to rest. It’s highlighted the importance of those I love and those who care for me. It’s also given me a pass to be a little bit more acerbic than I am naturally. Best of all, I have zero anxiety, as that part of my brain must have been hit hard.

So, even though I didn’t buy tickets for this ride, there is still plenty of beauty mixed in with all the challenges. My advice to you is, get on the ride, buckle up, and enjoy the scenery.