For weeks now, I’ve been sleeping on the wrong side of the
bed. Not that, in my case, there’s any
wrong side, since I sleep alone and both sides are technically mine. But, with
my hip surgery, it made more sense to climb in from the left side of the bed rather
than the right, which is my normal preference.
Coming at this from the wrong side has forced me to look at
things a bit differently. I can see the clock clearer, but the bathroom is a
few extra feet away. The dog seems to find my slippers more on the left side
than the right, and loves to stick her nose in them and wander off to other
parts of the room with them. I’m so right-hand dominant that it’s hard for me
to reach up with my left hand and turn off the light, or to grab my glasses
from the nightstand. I can’t flip onto my side as easily as I can when I could
grasp the mattress, so I’ve had to come up with some creative ways to turn my
body.
As I was laying in bed this morning, listening to the coffee
pot come to life in the kitchen, it struck me that, even though some things are
different, there’s a lot of similarity to the two sides of the bed. The pillows
are the same, the bedding is equally warm on both sides, but yet things feel
different. When I write my characters and try to find unique voices for each
one, I sometimes struggle with getting the male POV down and in a way a male
would say and do things. His reaction and solution to the situation I’ve put
him into may be the same as the female POV, but they come at it from two
different directions to achieve the same goal. Kind of like me trying to turn
onto my side.
As I begin my next story, maybe I need to spend more time on
the other side of the bed again. Time to rearrange the furniture.
