I was having trouble coming up with a title. I kept thinking of that old commercial with the egg--this is your brain; this is your brain on drugs. I'm rambling again--that's not what I intended to write. Sometimes I wonder if I'm channeling spirits. (joking, people)
I believe that many in their quest to be published read too much about how to write. Novelists need to be reading books they love and learning from them. It seems to me that it's getting harder and harder to find an original voice.
In many ways I think I was a better writer thirty years ago. But then I started having health problems that led to problems with my thinking abilities--I was going to say deterioration of my brain. Brain deterioration sounds worse to me than it actually was. Pretty bad, though. I worried that I had Alzheimer's. I was twenty-nine when I began to notice the problems. I started misspelling words that I usually never misspelled. I used incorrect words when I was talking and would lose my train of thought. It reached the point that I was afraid to talk to people--I stumbled over words so much and couldn't form a coherent sentence.
Gradually my brain seems to be returning to normal. Whatever normal is. By that I mean that I can string a few words together now without people ROFL. Well, maybe they are behind my back. (Some people still may not know that ROFL means "rolling on the floor laughing." I won't mention any names here.)
Hopefully my brain is functioning well enough for these words to make sense. Praise God. Perhaps by going through the deep fog I can now see even clearer. "Gone are the dark clouds!"