Sunday Snippet: The I May Need a Smack Edition

Okay, so yes, I’m a world-class worrier. But I only worry about important stuff, like whether or not the voices in my head that become novels might suddenly stop talking to me or that no one will buy my books or that they will buy them, but hate them or that I’m going to have a heart attack while I’m driving… See? Only really important stuff.

The book fears are more real right now because I have a new series to start with Tule Publishing, and I worry that maybe there aren’t any more stories from River’s Edge to tell. That’s totally dumb because of course there are more–tons more. But I do sometimes worry whether I can I keep this up. How many novels are in me? Right now the answer is 19, but what if I get revisions done on number 19 and suddenly can’t think of another thing to write? Will number 20 ever happen?

What I need is my friend, Connie, who loves more than anything to smack me upside the head (metaphorically) when I’m being a dope. I can already hear her now,

“Nan! Don’t make me come over there and smack you! You have a dozen notebooks full of ideas–you’ll continue writing. The people have been in your head since you were old enough to hold a pencil–you’ll write. Writing is breathing for you. It’s how you survive. And readers will buy the books and love the books as they always have. Be proud. Enjoy! And keep writing, you little pain in the butt.”

I think perhaps what’s really going on is that I need to prove to myself that I’m not losing my ability to focus and commit, which is another thing I worry about–probably too much. This summer, sticking to anything except editing work and writing has been hard. I’ve promised myself so many different times that I was going to maintain a good diet, an exercise regimen, a housecleaning schedule; that I’d go to the gym regularly, that I’d swim in the lake every day when we’re at the cottage, that I’d get on my bike, get the damn gardens weeded every week, reorganize the kitchen cabinets, and . . . well, you get the picture. But it wasn’t happening and I was feeling more and more like somehow, I’d lost control of the disciplined person I once was.

But I haven’t; she’s still in there—hell, I’ve written 19 books in the last ten years, I’m finishing editing gigs easily by deadline, I’m hauling my round butt out of bed every damn morning by 6 a.m. to walk two miles before I start my day. I sit down at my computer, do the work, write the words… Disciplined Nan is still here, but maybe, just maybe she has too much on her plate. I might need to shove a few things off and that’s okay.

So, before Connie gets a chance to read this, I’m going to vow to stop being a dope and to worry less and just be in the moment–every single moment. I’m done, I’m over it…time to move on. That doesn’t mean I won’t need a smack, metaphorical or otherwise, now and again. But just for today, no more worries…

Gratitude for This Week: Fun boat ride and lake play with Husband, Son, Grandboy, and Grandboy’s friend—twelve-year-old boys are okay by me; Book signing today will be a load of fun because the winery is always a happy place; new lake fridge is very cool (and not just because it’s a fridge); I’m feeling hopeful and joyful as we go into convention week; and the crepe myrtle is blooming in the ‘hood.

Stay well, enjoy these last late-summer days, don’t worry, and most of all, mes amis, stay grateful!