What better time, I thought, to begin feeling like a serious author? It was dark as midnight out and our morning heat hadn’t come on yet so it was about sixty five degrees in the house, which feels cold in socks and thin jammy pants.
I heated up my rice pillow to stop the spastic coughing fits, got some water, revved up the old laptop and climbed in bed to write.
It was great! It was quiet and I worked for an hour on my novel whose problems and sticky issues just recently opened up into this brilliant new avenue. I can’t talk about it yet because it is still a fetus of an idea but it was a huge break through and writing pages in this novel lately has been much more of a treat than a chore. Every spare second I can find I begin hammering out pages of dialogue between these new characters who have entered the scene. I write their stories and their feelings and private thoughts as I see them come through in their actions. Sometimes I can even read their minds.
Much like in functioning in real life, it requires intuitive patients to witness and write a novel. Just like in real life, things don’t go as expected, the plot rarely follows your exact hopes or intentions. Sometimes there is disappointment in story writing, but sometimes it unfolds in ways you could never have imagined let alone made to happen on your own merit and brain power.
So much of my life is like that. Since I started paying attention to my existence ten or twelve years ago, it has been apparent, over and over again. To say that things go better when I let go of control and stop manipulating the outcomes of problems and sticky issues would be a massive understatement. The synchronicities I have seen unfold in my own life when I have thrown up my hands and said, “I don’t know,” is simply miraculous.
It’s like there are all these thousands of miracles waiting in the wings of your life to happen, but they can’t happen when you’re taking up all the space with your micromanaging and control-freakishness. They’re just waiting there to leap in and make your life easier, no, magical, if only you would get out of the way and let them.
I’m seeing that just like in novel writing, in life too, there is immense power in saying, “I’m stuck; I give up; help!”