Autumn in Prague: a time of golden sun, sweet syrupy breezes, twinkling spires, and sleepy forest animals.

NOT.

It’s already winter here. Today’s temperature? 3 degrees Celsius (just a little above freezing). Great. Pair that with trams full of sneezing, dribbling riders and an office of congested coworkers and the likelihood of my getting a cold skyrockets.

So I got one. A blithery, blathery, achy, sore-throaty cold.

Before that happened, I’d get up at 8 and go to work till around 5.30 pm, then hop on a tram to a 3-4 hour theatre rehearsal, or to some other engagement. In other words, allotted time to work on my novel dropped to zero (degrees Celsius–ha ha?).

I know other writers confront this trouble, too. Finding time, energy, and motivation to squeeze in writing is hard, especially while juggling a social life (introverted, of course), a full-time job, and other hobbies. I have to say I feel lucky that my job involves creative writing. I’m a Copywriter who gets to create interactive storybooks and texts for learning apps, which is awesome.

But when I get home after a long day of wringing my brain for genius ideas, I’m useless. I can’t even think about writing my own stuff. Just switch on that Netflix, baby!

That’s why this cold turned out to be just what I needed. Having those three days off work and avoiding all social obligations (except rehearsals–the show must go on!) was the perfect medicine for regaining my mojo.

In those three days, I sat in bed, wrapped up in blankets, slurping teas, munching on various edibles, utterly and completely alone with my thoughts. No worries. No concerns.

And though I felt like crap, I got so bored that I HAD to write. It became an urge. Something I couldn’t hold back. Which reminded me so much of the early days of being an unemployed writer with all the time in the world for unfettered creative bombardments.

In those three days, I wrote over 15,000 words in a novel I can’t stop thinking about, even now that I’m back at work. Being sick gave me the time-out I so desperately needed. In fact, I had been feeling so congested in my mind that I’m almost certain my immune system failed on purpose in order to grant me this rest.

Plus, other people wait on you more when you’re sick, which, let’s face it, is actually what all writers want from life.