Reason #14

Sh*t Happens

If you’ve been one of the few following me along on the Why I’m Not Writing journey, you might have noticed that a bit of time has passed. The first week of not posting a piece made me cringe. (I’m not good at not hitting goals) The second week, I sighed deeply, chastised myself, but found I simply could not pull it together. By the third week, I was back to my typical, “Whatever”. The missed-posts count is now significantly higher and that’s why I’m writing this today. For the sake of naming it, let’s call the pause a Summer Break. But the reality is that normally, while my summers are definitely fast paced, I would be able to sit down for 30 minutes once a week, puke my thoughts onto the computer, post, and move on. But this summer something much larger got in the way…life.

Loved ones had major medical procedures with major recovery assistance needed. Loved ones had dwelling developments that required, architectural, planning, meetings, and design help. Loved ones had massive career woes that needed soothing. Loved ones had life altering decisions to make and needed nurturing. Loved ones hit enormous personal stumbling blocks and needed guidance to maneuver. Loved ones to came to visit…en mass!! Over and over!! They needed, and I happily gave, time, attention, and love. This is just the tip of the iceberg, the list goes on. But I’m not here to delve into these (MANY) individuals stories. They aren’t my stories to tell.

Instead, I’d like to share the pressure put on writers that I believe applies to anyone who is trying to grow, create, push the ball down the field and succeed. Writers (who are all NOTORIOUSLY famous for not writing) are preached at up and down to “protect your writing time at all costs”. We watch the few insane outliers who are able to churn out 64 novels a year (yes, Stephen King, I’m talking to you) (you, too, JT Ellison) (I love you Ellison!!) ( If, you don’t follow JT Ellison on Substack, you should. She’s insightful, funny, and lovely) and take detailed notes on every word that comes out of their mouths in regards to their behaviors, their writing rituals, their inspirations. We drink the tea they drink, we use the notebooks they use, we go see the movies that “changed their lives”, all in the hopes that one tiny spark of their essence falls on us and we’re magically free and clear to become the geniuses we all know we are. (Writers are also notoriously narcissistic)

We watch their interviews, analyze their social media (gag) (also, WHERE DO THEY FIND THE TIME??? AND HOW DO THEY COME UP WITH THE CONTENT??? AND WHY AREN’T THEY EMBARRASSED TO BE POSTING VIDEOS SOLELY OF THEMSELVES???) (refer to the above “narcissists” line…), and we take their advice. When you aren’t writing, you need to be reading. When it’s time to write, close your door and shun everything and everyone outside your writing walls. Quit that day job if you’re serious about being a writer. Keep your butt in the chair until you’ve written two thousand words. Don’t follow the trends…but also follow the trends. Pick a genre and stick with it. Cross genres to make your piece stand out. Take this class on writing. Go to that conference for writers. Know your ending first. Without a perfect beginning, no one will read it. Don’t edit while you write and don’t let anyone read it until you feel it’s polished. Write with joy! And in truth, all this advice is good. It’s spot on. Doable every day? That’s a push. It’s a phuking lot to follow ALL the advice all the time…and then to still write with joy. Then again, I follow very little of any of it, anyway, so who am I to judge.

When I first began writing full length pieces with the intent for anyone besides myself to read them, I had a hard and fast rule: only write when no one is home. This meant I could write when my kids were at school and when my husband was away for work. This was golden for years and easily attainable. As my writing progressed and it went from a hobby to a career, I kept the same rule. The only difference being that I CRAMMED in the writing when I was alone. I gotter done but it was grueling. Early this year, my husband sweetly announced that it was “my turn”, that he had had a glorious career and I had been there for him and it was time for him to be there for me. I beamed. I got the chills. “My turn”, I would muse as I imagined myself at my little desk (in my dream, my desk is clear of paperwork, house plans, TBR books, and the myriad of sh*t I just throw on it when I walk in the room), the door closed (per the writing Gods’ advice), dogs asleep at my feet (not barking at the cats pawing at the window from outside), and I would write for hour upon blissful hour until I could finally type “The End”. I would do this again and again and my cup would runneth over.

It was a beautiful dream.

And then this summer hit.

Again, I’ll skip the details, but go straight to the lesson I believe was intended. (I needed to believe that I was being taught a lesson or I would have blown a gasket) Life happens. Things happen. Shit happens. But if you read the top of this post again, everything was prefaced with “a loved one”. That was the lesson.

TRIGGER WARNING!!! PROCEED WITH CAUTION IF YOU’RE A DIE HARD FEMINIST BECAUSE THE FOLLOWING MIGHT RUB YOU THE WRONG WAY: I had started on the journey in this career, before I knew it was going to be a career, putting my loved ones first. “Only write when no one is home” is the equivalent to “only write when all other waters are calm”. My number one job always was and always will be as a mom and as a wife. I make no bones about it, I refuse to excuse it away. Because it doesn’t need to be excused away. It’s a gift to be able to say that my family, whether they be by blood or chosen, are my priority. This summer was a reminder of that. They came first.

I’ve had a very uneventful last week (thank G*d!!) and finally had time to sit down, sit back, think, and look at some of my notes on a book I am (or was before the summer) writing. To my utter surprise, I quickly was able to add to the outline and notes. The story had been working itself out subconsciously in my mind even though I hadn’t protected my writing time at all costs. I’m looking ahead at the coming year and can say with a smile that the hours I will be sitting at my desk are going to be over the top productive ones. I would never have realized that I could step away for MONTHS and still have a little writing gnome in my brain claiming her space, working , shouting at the top of her lungs, “Don’t give up, Sister!”

The point of all of this is that no matter what goals we all set, whether they are in business, in creative endeavors, or just in personal life change, there WILL be obstacles. I won’t say you can either give up or strong arm your way through. Both of those are negatives and will only bring you down or harden you to the point where no one will want to come within a mile of you. I suggest another option: embrace it. Go with the flow and see where that obstacle takes you. You might have some glorious epiphany and break through to a whole new playing field. Or it might take you back out into the ocean where you have to swim that much harder to get to shore. But even then, you end up with stronger muscles, don’t you?

And that, my friends, is life. Some days you might not pass go. You won’t collect $200. But some days…well, you just might. Keep rolling the dice.