It’s always tempting for me to figure how or why things are the way they are. Was it something I or someone else said or did, or didn’t say or do? Was it luck? Some random universal energy? What about karma? Part of me thinks that if I knew the reason why or how, then I could replicate or reverse the results. Someone once told me I was a “fixer.” I’m okay with that, except I can’t go back in time and “fix” whatever was the catalyst for a current (unwanted) situation. So when something (positive) arises, seemingly out of nowhere (quantum physics aside), I try not to question it. I just smile in thanks and move forward (and try not to look over my shoulder in case someone/something comes to take it away).
I’ve had a tough couple of weeks. I wrote a post on Patreon about how I used to ascribe to the “write despite” school of thought, and how I’ve changed my views. Three days ago, I had a lull in my workday. I was between projects and clients. I glanced at the corner of my desk where the spiral for SG has been sitting. Pulling it over, I clicked my pen and started writing. After four pages, I set it aside because I had a client appointment. The next day, same thing. I wrote another five pages, finishing the spiral. Since I still had a few minutes, I grabbed a new spiral from my stack and wrote another page.
I understand myself as a writer. When life is giving me a hard time, I just don’t have the grit/momentum/perseverence/will power to be creative. All my energy is diverted to solving the problem or dealing with the crisis. For years, I didn’t think highly of myself because I couldn’t carry on as if my life boat wasn’t in a tempest. I’ve since learned to give myself space to deal with the circumstance, and then I can return to writing.
So when I picked up my pen and continued with the story as if there had been no interruption, I wasn’t about to peer into mysteriously dark corners or question why the muse had come for a visit. I just kept my head down and my pen moving across the page. Maybe there isn’t anything to “fix.” Maybe it was time that I continued with my fiction projects instead of procrastinating with nonfiction and admin tasks. Or maybe my writer self was bored. I’m not going to dig into the why or the how. I’m just going to pick up my pen and continue with the story. Are you a “fixer”? Or do accept how things are and move forward?
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