I blame it all on Stephen King, his literary shoulders are broad enough to bear the burden. Three weeks ago, I went to Bangor, Maine to visit my friend and talented writer, Terrie Whitten. A native of Bangor, she immediately drove me by Stephen King’s house, complete with a wrought iron gate with all sorts of creepy things in black. That’s it. I was jinxed.

I was fooled into thinking everything would be fine by a couple days of sightseeing: Penobscot Bay and a whale and puffin tour out of Bar Harbor and the rest of the day at Acadia National Park. But that night, I got sick and 24 hours later, I was in the ER with a severe, acute gall bladder problem, which resulted in surgery. Gee, thanks, Stephen King.

When I finally got home, we took another trip to Denver to see my daughter’s new house, where the bathroom was stripped to the studs and my husband helped rebuild it, while I sat in a corner and pretended to write. Instead, I took multiple naps and just fiddled around.

And today, I am back at the office, ready to go! But my novel seems to have slipped a bit in my mind. What was it I was writing? Who is that character?

I asked for advice on the Fiction Notes Facebook Group on how to get back into the story and you can read their great advice here. If you’re not a member, just ask to join and I’ll click you through!

Coming this fall: 30 Days to a More Vibrant Character and Random Acts of Publicity Week.