Well, I’m back from the torrent. The last few weeks have been like drinking delicious water from a firehose—hard to handle, but glad for the gulps. Between kids’ graduations, epic playoff runs, and then having the pleasure of officiating my sister’s wedding this past weekend, there have been very few moments over these past few weeks where I’ve felt like my head has been screwed on straight. But the river has been run and this morning I finally got to take a deep breath.
Over breakfast, while reading the Week Junior (because it’s so much better than grown-up news), I afforded myself a few minutes of peace. I looked through some of the puzzles at the end of the magazine and decided that the Real or Fake segment about a house attached to a colossal hot air balloon was fake. (I was right.) But then that horrible, inevitable question of modern adulthood popped into my head: “What’s next?”
First, I thought, I have to get to the town clerk to drop off the marriage certificate. Then I have to confirm some work stuff and some parking for tomorrow. Oh, and get the water heater fixed because we have no hot water, and then… and then… and then?
I can write again?
I can write again!
Finally, after taking this long time-out from my writing to experience so many other joys, I can get back to finishing my current project and start up the next one. I can reach out to agents. Get back to hiking for inspiration. I can get back to doing my thing. But man, I’m so glad I took the time that I did to fully embrace the chaos of the last month. I experienced more pride and magic than I’ve seen in a long time, and I wouldn’t trade a second of it for a published word.
The Writing Game
The writing game is tricky because it can feel pretty unbalanced at times. Diving deep into a story, I often pray for a stream of at least two weeks, without interruptions, where I can fully concentrate. Of course, that never happens. I’m lucky if I can get an hour without something happening, or someone walking into my office. But how lucky am I to have people and things that want to interrupt me?
The interruptions are what actually give my writing balance. Not to mention, things to write about in the first place. If we could just lock ourselves in a room without any interaction with the outside world, we wouldn’t have as much to say about what’s going on in it, would we?
I’ve learned to welcome the interruptions. I’m still anxious to move the needle forward and get my next book out there, but if I resent the interruptions, then I rob myself of enjoying the experiences that no amount of published work could replace. So, I hit pause when I have to. And unpause when it’s time to let it fly again.
Time to unpause.