Increments. Resurrected Post.

December 7, 2014



My wife endured a car accident yesterday. She’s fine, for the most part. I took her to a clinic for evaluation: She probably suffered some minor whiplash, and I’m watching her for signs of concussion. Puts me on nurse duty and full time baby care for the weekend. Dole out the pills, serve up the meals. I don’t mind, my two ladies are worth it. How’s the car? Not so fine. I’m not looking forward to the diagnosis. A cursory visual inspection doesn’t reveal any obviously significant vehicular carnage. I’m not so sanguine. It wasn’t driveable and that doesn’t bode well.

I wrote just last week about entropy. Yeah. Kicking fate in the shin. Good idea.

But this is what we sign up for upon exiting the womb. Pitfalls. Slings and arrows. Wicked right-crosses. What you do is leap the pitfalls, dodge the slingstones and the arrows. Roll with the punches. And keep moving on. One step at a time.


No different from writing. I’m trying to keep the individual steps as my perspective right now, not pull back the focus and see the rather daunting word mountain rearing up before me. Let me break it down for you.

I’m waiting to hear back from a publisher about a novel. Waiting is part of the rules of the writing game, but it ain’t any fun.

Then there’s the other novel I recently completed the first draft of. That is sitting on the windowsill cooling until the new year. Once I can approach it with fresh eyes I’ve got to plunge into the second draft. Face all the glaring errors and embarrassing mistakes that shout at me to give up, that fixing this mess will be too much work. So I’ve got that to look forward to. Again.

There’s the novella waiting for its third draft. I can’t pick that one up again until I read the contributions from the other three writers attached to the project. So for now I can pretend that doesn’t exist.

Currently I’m researching and taking notes for my next project. I’m tackling a series this time. I don’t anticipate wrapping this one up until sometime around my fiftieth birthday. My daughter might have started school by the time this one’s done. It is off-putting and intimidating to consider the work in that light.

And so…

One step at a time. You might have to detour now and then. Shrug it off. Focus on the immediate next step.

Step. Step. Step.

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