We’ve had a pretty hectic couple weeks here. When one of our boys suggested a trip to the beach, we pulled on our swimsuits, packed up the sand toys, and headed on our way.
Over the last few years, we’ve discovered a couple lakes that are less popular and, therefore, much more fun for this introverted mama (besides, it’s easier to watch the kids with less people around). We have also learned that Sunday mornings are great for hanging out at the beach (don’t get huffy, we go to church on Saturday nights).
When we arrived, only one other family had their towels spread out on the sand. Perfect.
My husband and kids ran into the water, screeching from the cold. Well, not my husband. He doesn’t screech, exactly. As much as they shivered, a few minutes later, they had grown accustomed to the temperature change.
“Come on in,” my husband called to me. “The water feels good after a minute or two.”
Now, it is a commonly known fact that there are two ways of getting into the water. The jump in head first way…and the tip toe, inch at a time, shiver all the way method.
My husband dives. I inch.
So, I walked across the shore, dodging the goose poop, and inched my way into the water.
“It’s so COLD!” I screeched.
“It’s great once you’re in,” my husband said, dunking his own head.
Once I got in up to my waist, I decided to lay back and float on my back. The shock of chill took my breath, but was then overruled by how refreshing the water was. The way the sky looked above me. How my kids giggled and splashed and took small attempts to swim.
This is how some writing days are for me. I look at the work that must be done, fearing that it won’t feel good. That it will be uncomfortable. That I won’t be able to do the work.
Some days I tip toe toward the manuscript. I ease into it. Often it’s a shock to my system, my psyche, until I get far enough into the work. Then I remember.
This is a thing I love to do. This is the work I desire.
Then I resign myself to the writing. Sometimes it even sweeps me away.
So, friends, come on in, the water’s fine…once you let yourself get used to it.
What is it for you? What do you sometimes dread or worry over that ends up being fine once you’ve started? Are you a dive in kind of person or do you inch?
This is a great comparison. I’ve been trying to inch into a hard scene for a week now. I think it’s time I plunged in head first knowing that it’ll be okay and is the best thing for my characters.
Thanks for giving me gumption, ma’am!
First, I must say, gumption is far underused.
Second, I’m excited for you! Dive in! And try not to have that Steven Curtis Chapman song stuck in your head while you do!
Gumption is one of my favorites!
Also, that song wasn’t stuck in my head and now it is! Thanks. It’s exactly the theme music I needed as I plunge my pirates into crisis 😉
You should name one of your pirates Steven Currrrrtis Chapman.
You should call one of your family members that!…sorry, that still make me smile every time. I will have to track down your uncles one day.
Road trip to Ludington!!!!!!
I just went diving into my hardest scene yet. I started by inching in, but once I told myself I couldn’t each lunch until I really wrote something worthwhile, my dedication kicked up another notch.
I never thought some of my favorite authors might feel the same pain I do when reading through their work until I started writing. This will mark the third time I have cried in a public place while writing. This was the worst one by far.
Diving has its consequences, but not diving in leaves me with regrets. I can deal with consequences, regrets tend to haunt me a lot longer.
~Novice Diver Paul
Keep diving in. And you might want to invest in a privacy screen to put up at Biggby. You know, so other people won’t gawk at your pain and suffering…
Nice metaphor. (Is that technically metaphor? I think so)
Thanks, Cherry! And, sure. We can call it that! 🙂