Has it ever happened to you that you’ve realized you’ve been doing all the wrong things?

Maybe not all the wrong things, but just too many of not-the-best things?

You guys, I’ve been running ragged.

There’s a pulse of living a writer’s life, and I suppose it’s not that different from living any other kind of person’s life, except that I am not any other kind of person, and so I can only speak for the writer’s life.

There is an implicit fear that any given opportunity is The Opportunity. And so, one specific writer might find herself saying yes to all the opportunities out of fear that she will miss The Opportunity. And then that specific writer might find herself drowning in deadlines and appointments, starving her introverted creative, and feeling all over itchy and dry, like she just needs a good bath in inspiration.

Speaking both specifically and nonspecifically, of course.

I’ve been saying yes to a lot of things. A whole lot of the whole lot.

And suddenly I found myself running from one event to the next, chatting on the air with perfectly lovely anchors and writing columns for magazines with perfectly lovely readers. Some of them paid me and some of them didn’t, and some of them networked and some of them didn’t, but I found myself getting smaller in a sea of Bigness.Playground Equipment

Well, we sure can’t have that.

Add to that the necessary truths of me needing to make ends meet and thereby getting a second job, my son crushing his foot and needing months of daily care, and this thing of my other son becoming an actor and my pursuit of the role of Stage Mom. These, my friends, are details not conducive to the writing life.

But that’s how life is. It’s just so rarely conducive to itself.

I’m pulling back the reins and taking control of things again. Because you know what? Something in my spirit, perhaps the very Spirit Himself, whispered to me,

“Hey, T. Your blog didn’t go viral because of your endless pursuit of readers.

You didn’t get a multiple-book contract with a major publishing house due to your own striving.

You didn’t do this at all.

How about you sit back and remember how this started? Keep in mind that it wasn’t in your own strength, your own network, your own opportunities siezed and employed. Know that nothing should be done out of fear, but instead and only with purpose.

Hey, Trish? Stop striving.

Be still and know.”

So, now that the tall boy is on his feet – and literally running for the first time in five months, and now that the small boy is off the stage and now “between performances” and thereby only suffering the longings of of the post-show depression, and now that I’ve let go of the ongoing commitments to radio and columns, I’m coming back to this beloved keyboard, bracelets of words, the merry-go-round of ideas, and the moment of inspiration.Group Of A Coffee Cups.

And so, my loves – that’s You, dear readers – I am all yours once again.

Put some coffee on, girls.  We’ve got some catching up to do.

 

p.s. Male readers, I sure didn’t mean to leave you out. You put some coffee on too, or grab a beer – and let’s catch up.

p.p.s.  Oh wait. Now I have implied that only men drink beer. Not true – I have female friends who do as well.

p.p.p.s Good grief. This is a merry-go-round all its own. Just join me, please. Men and women alike. I have things to say.

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