Writing Through Uncertainty (With a Writerly Life Jacket)
By Vaughn Roycroft | September 17, 2018 |
Please forgive me in advance, but this is going to be an unusual post. Writing-life-wise, I’ve been feeling a bit out of sorts, you see. And it seems to have had an effect on my WU essay routine.
I normally write my WU essays about a week in advance. I like having a cushion. I even have a warning notification set up in my Outlook calendar for one week prior to each of my scheduled pub days. Last week, when that day blew by with no essay idea in sight, I still wasn’t too concerned. It’s happened before. Something would occur to me. Well, at the three-days-to-go mark, I started to worry. And I started a post. Then another. And another. This is pretty much how my weekend went. I took all three attempts to about 500-700 words before abandoning them. But in each case, I just wasn’t feeling it. I realize now that I was trying to force it.
Get this: a couple of the attempts were “craft instruction” type posts. Let’s face it—when it comes to essays, I’m not the instructor type. I guess if I had to describe it, my essay style would be something like: “Here’s what’s going on in my writing life and with my work; this is what I’ve come to recognize and/or believe; hope you can relate, and that I’ve made you feel less alone.”
So here I am, on the last day, starting my fourth attempt. And I thought, well, maybe I ought to just write about what’s going on in my writing life and with my work. Here goes nothing.
The Circumstantial Evidence
Allow me to start by offering an overview of my circumstance. I’m working on a trilogy. Book one is out on submission. I have a draft of book two, which is still out to a few remaining beta-readers. And I’m about a quarter of the way into a draft of book three (trying to gather all the threads of the first act).
I have no evidence that book one will sell. I’m not sure how much revision work there is to be done on book two (or book one, for that matter). And Book three is putting up one helluva challenge. Not that feeling challenged is a bad thing. Quite the contrary—I consider it a good sign. Still, I introduced several new characters and subplot-lines in book two, and I’m not exactly sure how the new elements will weave into the resolution. I really want this final book in the story to live up to its potential, to be as moving and powerful as my gut says it can and should be. I hope I’m up to it.
In addition to the writing stuff, last June when I finished a draft of book two, my wife and I came up with a list of home maintenance chores and repairs to attend to over the summer. I have about three-quarters of the list checked off, but the smell of autumn is definitely in the air, bringing the motto of House Stark to mind. A few of the unfinished repairs are weather-dependent. I need stuff to dry out, and we’ve had one of the wettest summers on record.
All of these aspects of my circumstance have something in common: uncertainty. I recognize that this is why I’m feeling out of sorts.
Focusing On the Good Stuff
Please don’t get me wrong. I’m not asking for sympathy. None of us gets a guarantee that what we’re working on will sell. We all face challenges on the page, or we’re not doing it right. I’m sure we can all agree that uncertainty is a big part of the writing life. It’s one of the few things I’m certain about.
And yet, this feels a little different. I suppose once I factor in a hectic spate on our social calendar, an oncoming (and vital!) election, some minor health concerns (seriously, minor stuff but I’m no spring chicken), and a dash of extended family obligations, it’s easier to see why I’m feeling off kilter.
But if there’s one thing I know about myself, it’s that when I’m feeling any amount of overwhelm, I do better by taking things one at a time. Today, I’m taking on my WU essay. That’s it. Everything else will still be there tomorrow.
It also helps to focus on the good stuff that might have otherwise floated on by as I paddle up the river of uncertainty. And it just so happens, something positive did float right to me recently. And it’s something I’m guessing most of you will identify with.
A few evenings ago, my wife finished reading the book two manuscript. Please understand that, for her circumstance, this is no small feat. My wife is currently at the height of her professional prowess, and at the top of her field. The economy is roaring, and she is rocking and rolling—as busy and productive as I’ve seen her since the days when we were business partners. Reading a new draft of a manuscript of a story which she’s read in previous incarnations, after having discussed in detail most every key element with the author as it’s being composed, is hardly something I’d expect her to make a priority. In fact, if I had my druthers, I’d have put lots of other things ahead of it—sleep, for example. And yet she made the time, catch as catch can.
The night she finished, we had a lovely conversation about the added nuances. She told me the story pulled her right through, that it lives up to the promise of book one, and that she’s proud of me… You know, supportive stuff.
Not that I’m poo-pooing supportiveness, or that she’s not insightful, or a good line-editor—she is! It’s just that she provides wise guidance throughout the writing process. But what I took from her summary of the whole is that her belief in these characters, this world, and this story remains steadfast.
In regard to that, allow me to take a moment to publicly express my deepest gratitude to her. Her inspiration, encouragement, and especially her fierce and enduring support, are gifts I will never take for granted. Without them, you wouldn’t be reading this essay right now. Full stop.
Quick Writerly Public Service Reminder: All of you who have the full support of a partner surely recognize what a wondrous blessing it is. (Your version might be a parent, offspring, a sibling, or a bestie.) Today—like every day— is a good day to remind them how appreciated they are. (Thanks, Honey!)
Swimming With a Life Jacket
As a result of the aforementioned off-kilter-ness, I suppose I’ve been pretty quiet of late. Which led WU Editorial Director Therese Walsh to kindly reach out to check on me. She generously listened as I explained my circumstance. Now, for those of you who are unaware, T is not only a top-notch editorial director, a genuine story-whisperer, and a wonderful friend, she’s also extremely wise. I mean, old soul wise. She gave me a boatload of helpful advice, and among the cargo, she encouraged me to—through it all—keep going on book three. I joked that, yes, I should take Dory’s advice (from Finding Nemo) and “Just keep swimming.”
T immediately agreed that swimming would carry me though, even if some days it felt like I wasn’t getting anywhere. “Swimming is a lot like writing, isn’t it?” she said. “You have to keep moving or you’ll sink. But the more you do it, the stronger you’ll become, too!”
It’s so true. And when I focus—not merely on book three, but on the current scene and its specific crop of characters—I feel empowered. And certainly less adrift. I know I’m becoming a stronger writer for it.
But I also recognize the buoying effect provided by those who are there for me—particularly my wife. Do you know I actually googled ‘life preserver you can still swim in,’ and there is such a thing? Made of a fabric called USLON, these suits fit just like regular swimwear. Not only is your movement unimpeded, you’re able to get the full benefit of a swimming workout. Plus, the added buoyancy instills confidence, allowing you to “paddle the extra mile,” so to speak.
So here I am. This is what’s happening in my writing life, and with my work. This is what I’ve come to recognize: I have been feeling out of sorts. But oh, I am supported.
This is what I’ve come to believe: I’m a lucky writer. And a grateful one.
I will keep swimming. Even when it feels like I’m headed upstream. Even in uncertain currents, I’m buoyed. I know I won’t sink. And I’m certain I’m getting stronger.
I am writing through uncertainty (with a writerly life jacket).
Thanks for staying with me though my unusual post. I hope you can relate, and that I’ve made you feel less alone.
How’s your circumstance? Do you just keep swimming through uncertainty? Who’s your writerly life jacket? Have you thanked them lately for keeping you afloat?
[Image is by Peerajit Ditta-in @123RF]
Vaughn Roycroft’s (he/him) teacher gave him a copy of The Hobbit in the 6th grade, sparking a lifelong passion for reading and history. After college, life intervened, and Vaughn spent twenty years building a successful business. During those years, he and his wife built a getaway cottage near their favorite shoreline, in a fashion that would make the elves of Rivendell proud. After many milestone achievements, and with the mantra ‘life’s too short,’ they left their hectic lives in the business world, moved to their little cottage, and Vaughn finally returned to writing. Now he spends his days striving to finish his epic fantasy series.
Vaughn, it’s been good to know you better on this forum, where you’re at with writing and life. I agree that we couldn’t have this amazing writing life without a supportive partner. Your wife is a gem!
I, too, am grateful for my husband, who’s supported my desire to stay home with the children once they arrived. The writing dream took root in those many hours of just being with them, watching clouds go by, kissing their fat cheeks, reading. Now they are grown and spreading their wings and I’m still home and writing. Experimenting. Growing. I’d love to be successful enough so that my husband can retire early.
All the best as you finish up your many projects.
Hey Vijaya – I’m with you – this is a great forum for getting to know our fellow writers, isn’t it? The conversations here are among my favorite online – indeed, often they’re my favorite of the day.
I absolutely adore your wish to support your main supporter in early retirement! I’ve just adopted it for mine. It’s too perfect.
Thanks for your insight, and for your fantastic wish idea. Here’s to supporting supportive spouses!
Love this, Vaughn! Thanks for your honesty. We’ve all been there. Just keep swimming is a great mantra.
Thanks, Kathleen! Here’s to the wisdom of Dory. Wishing you smooth waters and enjoyable swimming ahead.
Vaughn, I count on you to talk about your writerly life because you do always make me feel better. I, too, have been feeling pulled in several directions by life, and even though it’s all good stuff, it’s a distraction from work that requires a great deal of silence and focus. So, one day at a time (or hour or minute) has become the motto of the House of Susan. And yes, I have a husband who is aptly named Peter, without whom I would not be closing in on the end of a huge revision. I thank him daily and apologize a lot for so often being moody or sullen. So that’s the long way around to say I relate!! And to thank you for the reminder of the power of gratitude!
Phew – I’m glad someone counts on this sort of post. I recently found out it’s a tough wheelhouse to ignore. ;)
You are so wise to break it down to hours or even minutes. If we let the entire day slip by due to overwhelm or distraction, we lose opportunities to maintain momentum. Even if we only set aside an hour or fifteen minutes for story meditation, we gain so much.
Ah, a saintly supporter, eh? Here’s to Peter! Thanks much for letting me know you relate, my friend. Wishing you smooth and well-buoyed swimming toward your goal.
Yes, Vaughn, as always (!) I can relate and you’ve helped me feel better. :D
Seriously though, that’s been one of the reasons I’ve always enjoyed your posts (both here and on the WU page on Facebook). It seems like what you’re going through is similar to someplace I’ve just been or am coming fast upon.
Someone once said writing is a marathon, not a sprint. I imagine the problem with a marathon is keeping motivation up when the end is not in sight and your energy is flagging. That’s how I’ve felt, the last three years, especially. And, with a marathon, at least you have an endgame. Writing doesn’t really have an end, except for those that we create. And then those goals change, right when we’re in the middle of the first marathon!!
My answer, which made writing fun again and gave me an ability to get back in the game (evidenced by the fact that I’m engaging with writer-people again and slowly making progress on the book that will not be finished), was to make new goals. Shorten up the marathon, so to speak. Not concentrate on the end game, but enjoy the run.
I bicycle with my husband – who is a bike monster. I’m not at all, I’m the bike turtle. Often when we’re on distance rides, I have to break the ride up to small sections such as “I’m getting to the top of the next hill without stopping.” That’s what I did with my writing. Instead of being all about publishing or about other people’s enjoyment of the story (which I was), I turned it around to being all about the story. I’ll finish the damn second book that won’t be finished as best I can and I’ll start a new story. I want to write some short stories. Eventually I’ll start submitting again. And if I never reach the endgame of my marathon, it’s okay, because I can always make it to the top of the next hill.
Anyway, thanks for your honesty. Yes, you always do help and I appreciate your transparency. :D
Hey Lara! It’s been great seeing you around again. It’s nice, isn’t it, to know that we’re both swimming alongside? Even when they’re momentarily out of sight, it’s a comfort to know our oldest writing friends are still there.
There’s so much wisdom in this comment. And the biking analogy is apt, as well. It’s all about perspective. Why worry about what lies beyond this next hill? And when we reach each hilltop, we can relish it, and take a moment to enjoy the view.
Thanks for your honest, wise insights, and for letting me know these sorts of posts make you feel less alone. You’ve certainly always done that for me, so it’s nice to return the favor.
Vaughn, since I signed my pub contract, I have gone through over a year of uncertainty and false starts, so I know a bit of what you’re talking about. It does help so much to have a supportive spouse. But they are only as supportive as we allow them to be. Sometimes we needlessly suffer silently and alone because we don’t share those struggles and frustrations. I know I have. I hope everyone reading this gives the people in their lives a chance to support them by sharing with them. :)
Hey Erin – Ah, an excellent spin on the supportive spouse thing. Indeed, we have to open ourselves a bit, and give them the opportunity to support us. I admit, my worries and daily struggles can often seem too petty or insignificant to burden her with. Particularly when I hear the hour by hour whirlwind of her daily feats, and I’m all, “Well, I’ll be noodling over which character’s POV would best serve this next scene for the next hour. Maybe two.”
Thanks for the excellent insight! Happy swimming this week.
Yeah, my husband is a pastor and is often dealing with people in serious crisis, so I tend to hold back as well, partly because, yes, what are my struggles compared to theirs, but also not to burden him further since he is burdened for a living! :D
Your encouragement to keep swimming couldn’t come at a better time in my writing life. I’ve pulled your quote, written it on a post it and it now occupies the corner of my computer. Thank you!
Huzzah! So glad you found the timing perfect, Edie. It’s always an honor to be quoted, even when I’m quoting a cartoon character. (Come to think of it, I’ve been quoting cartoons all my life. ;) Wishing you smooth swimming ahead!
Vaughn, I’m quite peeved that you are taking up Therese’s counseling hours when I continue to periodically rely on her to buoy my spirits on the writing side of things, the political side of things, the “why can’t life just taste of pie” side of things. I suspect that she’s been two-timing me with others of the usual WU suspects needful of her old-soulness.
Which is to say, an abiding sense of gratitude to people who give generously of themselves to contentious, or insecure, or panicking or witholding writers, or even writers who just need a simple “yes, that’s good, keep going” and not the full-on please-get-me-oxygen-along-with-seven-valium paroxysms that happen on occasion in a household that suspiciously resembles mine.
Vaughn, your wife sounds like a treasure. My sweetheart Alice pulled me out of the mossy grotto of writer’s gloom countless times, has been an invaluable sounding board for story and character ideas over long time, and also makes killer chocolate-chip cookies. I have a tendency to pull blankets over my head, but thank the heavens there are sources of light out there.
Keep swimming!
Hey Tom – I suppose they don’t call her Mama T for nuthin’, huh? I’ve said before that T is like WU’s sun – providing our light-giving center and writerly gravity and such.
I find that often the best sort of support (particularly in the face of writerly paroxysm) is a simple, “this is good, keep going.” Thank goodness our two houses resemble one another in that way.
Well, even if you can’t always get everything you want at Alice’s Restaurant (I’m presuming it resembles Maureen’s Restaurant), it’s impossible to beat a timely helping of sunlight. That and a pair of killer chocolate chip cookies makes you as lucky a writer as I am, and I’m very glad to hear it. Thanks for sharing.
This is why I have two ears! Happy to lend them anytime, friends.
V, first of all, my pleasure to assist, my friend. I’m so eager to see your books embraced in this world, and I know that they will be.
Three cheers for a supportive spouse. I couldn’t be more grateful for the support of my husband, who–on top of everything else– reminds me of who I am if I (temporarily) suspend belief in myself.
My first thought while reading your post was “There’s a fine line between Uncertainty and Doubt.” I began mentally planning a comment about uncertainty and a writer’s life, and then had to apply the brakes because you acknowledged its role perfectly.
So let me address that bugger, Doubt.
Sometimes things shift in reality or in our imagination, or through a quiet passage of time in which micro-goals are left unmet, and ‘the odds’ seem to change with regard to actualizing a dream. The things you mention–doubt the first book will sell, that the first book needs to be changed, that the second book will also need to be changed based on the first, that the third may need to be changed based on the first and the second and also if the first never sells then what does that mean for… And physical projects await outdoors. And time is passing–we feel it in our bones, in our organs, in the texture of our skin; and in the change of seasons.
If time is a player in our metaphor, I’d say it’s the sea itself. You cannot change it. It is weighty and omni-present and critical. Our relationship to it, with our human limits, is inherently uncertain; often we come to understand this pretty early on in life.
Dreams are like our Uslon swimwear–they make movement easier, have a limited capacity to help even when we’re exhausted or through a dark night, and fill us with hope that all will be well.
Doubt pulls us low, though–like rocks in pockets that have magically appeared in our Uslon swimwear (hey, my metaphor involves ocean sewing — who knew?!). Doubt-stones can puncture Uslon and then some. They can make us stall out. Tread water. Take on water. Panic. Feel more keenly the weight of that sea called Time. Remove them with the same dedication that you apply toward the other tasks that call on you in autumn (‘the dying season,’ but always as only one part of a cycle).
I know this is an overly simplistic approach, but the ultimate goal is to protect ‘the suit’–the dreams, your hope–because that suit is worth protecting. That suit is everything. And watch for stones in low-tide times, when you feel close to the bottom of the sea, until the tide changes again. Because it always does.
Swim on, V.
First, it’s worth mentioning to a fellow fan that, for a minute there, in the heart of this amazingly wise essay of a reply, you went all Galadriel on me. “And time is passing–we feel it in our bones, in our organs, in the texture of our skin; and in the change of seasons…” I could even hear this starting to play in the background: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J93fc–VsaI
And I imagined you next saying, “Much that once was is lost. For none now live who remember it.”
Ahem. Anyhoo – Yes! Uncertainty versus doubt. So astute of you to parse that. And it’s true, I almost have to consciously nudge myself to keep the two from entwining or conflating in my thoughts (Smeagol-Gollum metaphor there? No? Okay…). Somehow autumn does seem more like an approaching end. But I LOVE autumn. So maybe it’s the holidays that represent some sort of dire finality. Like, ah, here we are at Thanksgiving. Then, BOOM! Before we know it, it’s Christmas week. Now New Years, and… Here I am in another year.
That can feel like it should be followed by the ole’ sad trombone. But it shouldn’t. I mean, not if I’m diligently keeping my dreams alive. Another digit on the calendar is just another year to write, after all.
I was talking to Mo about this, and I took tremendous comfort in something she said about working through book three, and how exciting that notion was. It is! I mean, no matter what comes of the rest of it, I can’t imagine leaving this thing two-thirds done. It’s just out of the question. So why the hell wouldn’t I focus my bliss there, and follow it? I can’t think of a single reason.
Did you know that in Sindarin, Galadriel’s name means “Lady of radiant garland”? And that, “…no sign of age could be found upon her, unless it were in the depths of her eyes; for these were keen as lances in the starlight, and yet profound, the wells of deep memory.” Seems pretty apt to me. Not too shabby, eh, Birthday Girl? ;-) Thanks so much for your insight, wisdom, and friendship. They are great gifts, indeed.
Well, you should know, I nearly included this quote: “A day may come when the courage of men fails… But it is not this day! This day we fight!” :-)
“There, peeping among the cloud-wrack above a dark tor high up in the mountains, Sam saw a white star twinkle for a while. The beauty of it smote his heart, as he looked up out of the forsaken land, and hope returned to him.”
WU Community response to essay + T’s wisdom in essay and in reply + wonderful writer friendships = Sam’s white star 💫
So often I say “this was the post I needed today,” because it is so often TRUE. And it’s not any less true today: this morning I sat down after a several-week hiatus (family obligations, social bits, a house that–still–needs some chaos control…I was nodding at this paragraph, Vaughn) feeling a tremendous clog of resistance and a doubt-stone or two. Or three. My goal for today was to reread some recently-drafted scenes, remember where I was in the story and that there IS something to the story (thank goodness). Just get my head back in the game. So yes: I can definitely relate, and you’ve made me feel less alone. Thank you, Vaughn, and everyone else!
Thank you for the wisdom, and the good reminders: to share with my supportive partner, for example. He’s going through his own upheaval at work, and I’ve been reluctant to add to the burden…but being uncommunicative about my own struggle probably doesn’t help either of us. In fact, I think it makes it easier for the doubt-stones to accumulate. (Really helpful metaphor, Therese.)
Treading water on a Monday, working on getting a second wind here. :-)
Hey Alisha – There’s something sort of spooky about how often we find what we need in this space, isn’t there? I’m so happy and honored to be on the delivery side of that equation for a change.
I think you’re wise – after a hiatus – to go in and reread. And to make that your sole goal for the day you come back to it. I think it’s an underappreciated tool. Or at least under-mentioned (I suspect we all do it, but few of us talk about it). Especially without the added pressure of… “And then I’ll write ____ words.” Regaining immersion (i.e. getting your head back in the game) is critical to moving forward (that may be obvious, but it’s something I sometimes neglect to fully take into account).
Thanks for enhancing the conversation, Alisha! Wishing you the very best, for re-immersion, for new progress with the WIP, and for compartmentalizing all of the rest. Give my best wishes to your primary supporter, too. (You’re right about that bit, as well. :)
It truly is amazing how serendipitous WU posts can be — I guess that speaks to the fact we’re all slogging up the same hill together.
I’m also still amazed after 20+ years of writing fiction and non-fiction that the roller coaster of emotions we experience as writers never seems to even out.
How quickly we can move from confidence to doubt, from certainty we’re on the right path to feeling lost in the dark. Sometimes all in one day (or one hour!).
Nothing profound to say, I guess. Just…I hear ya.
Ha! I beg to differ, Sheri. Mentioning how, no matter how long we’ve been at it, that confidence/doubt flip is just as easy and likely as ever, is an astute addition to the conversation.
Thanks much for the addition and for letting me know. Wishing you smooth progress on a well-lit path!
Vaughn, Since I reprinted and saved a comment you wrote to me that helped me on a down day, I hope that something here will do the same for you. Writing sometimes requires a meditative state. You work on your house chores but your characters are always with you. Or you want to escape to someone else’s novel and there is a word or an idea that sparks one in you. YOU ARE A WRITER and I know you will keep swimming. But it’s always in your power to decide what that looks like. Sometimes you can just hang out in the shallow end and not make yourself crazy with a power dive. Much writing comes from experience touched by creativity and your life follows that path.
Beth – Consider the favor returned. This lovely little comment is packed full of life-wisdom. Yes to the meditative state, to my characters always being with me. Yes to the sparks that fly when we’re least expecting. Good point about deciding for ourselves what our writerly life looks like at any given moment along the way. And hella-yes to the fact that it’s derived from our experience and forges our path, both!
I always love your comments, but today’s is a gem among gems. Thank you!
So, how is writerly uncertainty any different than all the other uncertainties we live with? You mention health. Like you, my issues are few and trivial…but you NEVER KNOW!!
Does that stop us from exercising, or for that matter having a Rye whiskey neat once in a while? Nope, we do the work and enjoy the pleasures. So with writing.
I will admit that the am-I-good-enough uncertainty prior to pub has a bit more bite than some others, since of course on that question turns our entire identity and happiness. Oh, well…heh-heh…maybe not.
My son (you’ve met him) just started running middle school track. He is fast, always finishing first, not bad especially for a kid with no conditioning whatsoever. He does not realize that however. He just runs like the blazes.
As should we. I owe you an e-mail and updates, pal!
Hey Benjamin – Point taken about not allowing uncertainty to dictate… well, anything – particularly the savoring of a taste or six of rye whiskies at the local craft distillery.
And I see what you did there with identity and happiness not being tethered to the external of validation. I often think I can take it a step farther by accepting that the value of my stories is untethered to it. They have inherent value. They’ve already demonstrated that to me and to many of those I care about many times over.
Here’s to the track star! Seems so fitting, receiving that life lesson from him. He’s a natural when it comes to that sort of thing, too. You’re lucky to have him around.
Looking forward to hearing more about it all. Cheers!
Vaughn! I’m so glad to read this — I too was starting to worry about your WU silence of late. I’m swimming in the same choppy waters as you, and like you I’ve been relying on the flotation support provided by my spouse, T., and other friends. Lately I’ve come to think that the best things to come out of my writing aren’t the words — it’s the friendships I’ve made and deepened along the way. Without the struggles, I wouldn’t have or appreciate the relationships as much.
Hi Liz! Yeah, I decided a couple of months ago that I needed a sabbatical from FB. It’s helped with the work focus (and helps with the whole “living in the moment” thing, too), but I sure miss you and the WU gang there.
I so agree with you about the friendships, and coming to appreciate them through our writerly struggles. I don’t know where I’d be without y’all.
Great to see you! Thanks for weighing in. Wishing you great buoyancy in the face of uncertainty. Give the hubs a high-five for me. Can’t wait to see you again.
Vaughn,
Lately your posts have really hit the spot with my writing life, so much so that I’ll save them to read in the quiet hours of the evening, rather than the busy chaos of the rest of my day, when I’m trying to split my attention too many ways.
I’m so glad that you have the support you need to stay afloat–both at home and here in the community. It’s so important, because there will be days when we feel lost and uncertain about the direction we’re going or how to get everything on our plates accomplished.
Thanks for the lovely reminder to search out and recognize support. It reminds me that I’m behind on updating my own “writing buddy” and getting the encouragement I need to “just keep swimming,” err writing.
Hi Christine – You know, I have a few favorites here; folks that I don’t read until I know I can focus, take their words in, and savor them. And I am humbled and honored to be among those essayists for someone. You’ve made my day!
The writing of this one, and the response, are providing so much fuel. You’re right – without this support, we’d be lost.
Glad to hear I’ve provided the nudge for you to update your buddy. Thanks much for letting me know. Here’s to tirelessly swimming on (with a little help from our friends)!
How lucky you are to have your Mo!
I hide my writing angst from everyone and then when it’s time to do my WU post, cray cray spews out from all the stuffing of stuff. *laugh*
You are awesome!
Hi Kat! – You know, I thought of you while this was coming together. I realized I was riffing on Kat. Though I knew there was no danger of ever actually copying it in a noticeable way. There’s just no imitating such an inimitable style and voice – no matter how cray-cray one is feeling whilst spewing. 😂
I really do know how lucky I am. But thanks for reminding me. And for your kindness and enduring friendship.
I loved your post, Vaughn! I know exactly what you mean by that feeling of “off-kilter-ness.” And yet maybe that’s how we are supposed to be: “People wish to be settled; only as far as they are unsettled is there any hope for them” (Emerson).
Recently I’ve been paddling along well enough with my current manuscript. The stops and starts and floundering around continue–but I am learning to cope with the process better. Now I expect the arrival of those days in which I say to myself that I have no idea what this book is about, no idea what the heart of it is, no idea why I am writing it. But I don’t wallow in this uncertainty as much as I used to, and sometimes I go away and do other things until the solution to the problem presents itself.
Also, I’ve been reaching out for support to my daughter, who is an awesome editor. It is unbelievably helpful to discuss characters and story with another person. I think I had forgotten that…
Hi S.K. – Great to hear from you! You’ve packed a lot of wisdom in this comment. Though we rarely acknowledge it, there is an accumulated experience and a patience that comes of doing this for a while.
And that’s bound to impart a bit of wisdom, as you very astutely point out. We can know ourselves as artists well enough to not frenetically overreact to our periodic (and very human) shortcomings. The mere act of stepping away gives our subconscious the space it needs to reveal what we need (something that I’m guessing we often already know but are unwilling to “see”).
That’s so great that your daughter is *that supporter* for you! It must be tremendously uplifting and pride-instilling at once. I’m delighted to have offered a slight nudge to remind you of it. Thanks much! You’ve given my writing day the perfect boost.
Late to the post, but I have to say: you and our WU tribe are my writerly life jackets, and oh what troubled waters y’all have helped me tread. Thanks for your usual candor and grace, V.
Hi Tonia – No worries about being late. It’s always great to hear from you. :-) And (speaking of being late) though we haven’t spoken in a while, you’ve been in my thoughts. Please don’t ever hesitate to reach out if there’s anything at all I can do. No matter how big or small. I’m a devoted life jacket, here when any need arises.
So glad you found the post comforting and/or heartening. Thanks much for letting me know. Wishing you the very best, my friend. You deserve it.