The Thing About Writing

 

 

                “It’s okay, Mama. I can do it by myself,” my daughter told me a couple of years ago, when I was getting ready to push her in the swing of the park we visited every week. As I nodded, a pang of pride and a growing fear rushed in my veins. That simple exchange articulated how time was flying right in front of my eyes, faster than any swing.

                Many times, these small milestones are life’s subtle way of telling us we are no longer needed. I remember that when I wrote my first book, I clung to it for a looong time. Okay, so I sucked at writing back then and it took me longer, but part of me likes to think I didn’t want it to end because I didn’t know what would come after. What if I finished it and the inspiration to write another one flew away? What if I showed it to someone I trusted and that person showered me with patronizing motivational quotes? I have no idea what would have happened if I’d showed that particular one to anyone, since I finished and it’s safely stashed away till I’m brave enough to read it again and start a major editing overhaul. I’d have to ask that skinny guy from Extreme Makeover: Home Edition for help. Get the picture?  

                After months filled with personal chaos and fascinating milestones, I’m finally getting around to putting some ideas on paper and polishing proposals that should have been sent too long ago. It’s never good to have this ginormous gap between writing, editing, sending proposals, the whole shebang.

                Sometimes though, things spin out of control and we feel powerless. There’s no time, no way, no how. Madness. Phew.  

                But that’s okay. That’s life, isn’t it, folks? Sometimes, you just have to swing it.