Sorry about the late night post this week, fellow scribes. All day, my rabbit was acting strange, then she stopped eating and stopped moving her bowels. As a mother to any type of living creature knows, no poop = a massive problem.
Rabbits especially are prone to something called GI Stasis, where the gut stops moving so food and waste sit inside the stomach/intestines. It's extremely painful and can lead to death in a matter of days or hours if left untreated.
So, most of my day was spent worrying myself to death, sitting quietly and talking sweetly to a grumpy bunny, and trying to coax food and water into her as much as possible.
It took almost all day, but right now she seems to be improving. She is eating voluntarily (mostly junk foods like seeds, alfalfa hay, cardboard, and a wicker basket - but she does sneak in some good baby kale and grass hay to keep mama happy), and she came out from her hiding place to run around (yes, run) and even do some bunny binkies! If you've never seen a bunny binkie, please look it up on YouTube. They are the best display of rabbit happiness ever and so dang cute.
She even produced a few, albeit minuscule, poops that were either rock solid or a little soft, but hey, that's improvement, people!
Today has definitely been a test on my nerves - a test I sincerely hope is over for now. But all this stress got me thinking: I would give anything for my bunny to get better.
Was it going to take all my money for her to not die? Done. All my time suddenly gone - no sleep before my early shift tomorrow morning? No problem. Would I have to drive two hours to the vet? In a heartbeat. Sell one of my own kidneys to a witchdoctor? Where do I sign?
This terrible, gut wrenching, I'll-do-anything-to-just-make-it-all-right-again feeling was what all of the characters in my stories should be feeling. If not, the stakes weren't high enough.
If their hands and feet didn't go numb with panic. If their vision didn't blacken with dread. If they didn't vomit with worry - the stake's simply weren't high enough. I wasn't putting their absolute most precious thing on the line, and of course, they wouldn't truly care (nor would the reader) unless the stakes were so high, they would do anything.
So, the next time you write an outline, revise a scene, or get an idea for a novel, I want you to ask yourself one simple question:
Would my protagonist sell his/her kidney to an evil witchdoctor - no questions asked - if it meant his/her situation improved or reversed?
Because, really, when it comes down to it, if it isn't really that important, then it's not enough to hang an entire story on.
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