Riding the Waves

Riding the waves, as life evolves and the days of summer pull me along. the rushing of the rapids, threatening to toss me into unknown oblivion. the calm, steady parts, soothe my soul and calm.

No matter the rhythm of the current, I sit in my imaginary tube, with my fishing pole. The line slack and quietly hanging in the muddied waters. And I wait. Hoping for inspiration, guidance, or maybe a miracle to bite.

Some days, the lull of calm aggravates me. Or the pull of the undertow is too strong. When this happens, I will get out, shake off my inner thoughts and resume normal routines while on dry land.

At times, when I am feeling determined, I attempt to direct family life while floating. While this can be awkward, it can work.

Establishing a routine has been at the top of my priority list. On dry land in while submerged in the depth of the writing waters. Everyone needs routine. Especially me, who tends to become sidetracked and over indulgent with my analyzing small worthless details.

When I can stick with a schedule – things run smoothly. The world is right and I am happy.

On a non-schedule day - meaning a normal day with my crew, when my routine is not followed, and the new dog needs another vet visit, or the kids have to go to a camp, or nighttime creeps up out of nowhere and I am exhausted - I tend to be frustrated at my lack of writing.

These real life adjustments cause writing amnesia for me. Nothing seems to fit after a day or two of normal. My words are awkward and I want to shrug it off and toss it aside.

I was at that point yesterday. I wanted to float the calm waters of thought and process ideas that had to do with my story. But all I had was a flattened inner tube, a birds nest made of fishing line and kids waiting to be driven somewhere.

So, I took a step back, reorganized my priorities and enjoyed regular life. I smiled more and listened to the kids being kids. Reaching out to a friend, I allowed her wisdom to calm my frustrations with my work.

Eventually, I felt better.

The following day, I opened my eyes and had a brighter outlook. I appreciated what layed ahead outside my bedroom door. I scheduled my floating time and surprisingly my kids were happy about this.

My Cloffice is in the house, so I am not too far away if there is an emergency. Knowing, I need this time. It turns out that they like a happy Mommy, just as much as I do.

My plan was to allocate 3 hours of my day to my writing, plotting, and planning. and guess what? It worked. Not long after I entered my Cloffice and settled into the waves, something took the bait. I logged into my website to blog. It made perfect sense to go back to where I started.

Typing in my password, I felt tense. A stranger to the process. But, after a few minutes, a familiar comfort spread under my skin and my fingers began to type.

Even though I have been silent in the blogging world this summer, I have been writing. (I promise!) Mostly, smoothing out ideas. Working out the kinks. Wondering if I even identify with the story I am writing.

There are days that I don’t like the story – or the scenes – or my computer. My wording is wrong. My characters are flat. These days SUCK.

Is it the story?

Is it me?

These questions begin a whole other conversation in my head. But, after I rationalize this inner argument, I always return to the same answer. This IS a story I need to write.

A deep yearning exists. Pulsing. Living. Breathing. The importance of this story is embedded so deep, I fear it. I need it.