I decided I wanted to go ahead and get the submission in while the editor I've been corresponding with is still likely to recognize my name, so I went with what seemed like a commonsense approach, but I'd still be glad to hear what, if anything, is the Official Right Way, if anyone knows.

(And no, I don't do run-onalicious sentences like that in my official writing. At least, not once I'm past the rough drafts.)

Unfortunately, the only journalism-for-pay assignments I've had were for an editor who liked me real well and was in a pinch to get material that month, so when I sent him stuff it was in regular fiction story submission form (Courier, standard margins, regular header format, word count and contact info on the first page) which he didn't have a problem with. Thinking back to my college newspaper writing, I can't remember much about the formatting we used, but then that was a student-run paper....

THIS is not a memememe post -- this is writing that I'd like to be evaluated for the writing, not just the content. It's probably going to end up at my writing class; I may read it for our public reading, when we have guests.

That said, keep in mind this is a first draft.

*****

Pain

It consumes me, devours me whole. It's become the primary focus of my every waking moment, an overlay obscuring everything else in my life, my mind, my body. Above everything I do, my overriding awareness is of pain. First, last, and always.

This is actual physical pain, mind you, not emotional or psychic pain. Not angst, not a broken heart, not war-induced terror. Physical pain, which started as searing sharp pain in my lower back, and has metamorphosed into unrelenting burning pulling aching pain down the entire length of my left leg, from my hip to my toes. The sole of my left foot is partially numb, a sensation which ranges from pins-and-needles to a cold dead feeling.

And the pain is constant. It's always there. No drugs, no position - sitting, standing, or lying down - alleviates it. I've been able to subdue it some days, but never to eliminate it. Even when I'm lying perfectly still, in the most comfortable position I've found (flat on my stomach, leg extended fully), the pain is still there.

It's almost an entity that has possessed my body, a demon that has taken up residence and refuses to leave. My losing battles with it leave me exhausted and emotionally ravaged. My personality has changed during the course of this constant aching burning pain. It's always there, it's the foremost thought in my mind, and as such, I find I can't deal very well right now with the demands other people put on me - simple, normal demands, like an innocuous conversation, like a question at work. I only have the energy and strength for this pain, and anything more is too much. So I snap. I snarl. I click my teeth together furiously, like a wounded animal who doesn't know how else to react other than to bite out of fear and hurt and helplessness.

I am not me. This pain has obscured me. I know I'm still in here, and there are occasional moments when I am able to break through the miasma of pain and ache and be me, react normally to a conversation or a smile. But those are very few and incredibly far between.

My body is betraying me. That's what I feel. But then I know, logically, that my body is trying to save itself, to tell me that there is something wrong, something that needs to be fixed right away. I know this. Dear God, I know this. I am doing everything I can, taking every opportunity presented, and it's not enough. I'm willing to have needles jabbed into my spinal column, steroids injected directly into the discs. I'm willing to have surgery, lasers - or maybe knives - cutting out the source of this pain.

I'm willing to do anything. To exorcise this demon that has taken over my life without my consent. To wrest control once again of my life, to be me again and able to fully engage with others without this endless searing pain getting between me and the world.

Steph, do you want deep editing/commentary, or general?

Fire away with anything. Really. Because by virtue of it being a first draft, it may end up a totally different creature. I just have to core-dump my first drafts so that they're out of my head. Then I can stand back and look at them and see where changes need to be made.

OK. Give me a bit to eat something, and I'll do some general takes on this.

It's a good piece, and I know from pain....

Steph, one thing I really like about it is that the whole rhythm of the piece, the way you've handled sentence structure and such, has a very appropriate raw immediacy to it.

Steph, email or here? What's your pref?

Whichever you want, Deb. I don't mind public feedback, as long as the phrase "illiterate git" is used sparingly....

Addendum: I've reached a comfortable pain-management point (finally!), so I'm going to take advantage and go to sleep. I'll look forward to your comment in the morning, Deb.