Plans and Problems

For those of you who have been reading for a while, did you know that I used to plan and prewrite and schedule all of my posts? When I first started this back in 2019, I had a grand sweeping arc with themes and timelines. And I pretty much kept to it over the next few years. But between one thing and another, that plan slowly broke down.

At first, I felt really ashamed of it. What kind of person was I, that I couldn’t even keep up with a blog? It doesn’t take that much time, just a little diligence and forethought. And then, I realized that all of that shame was getting in the way of my fiction writing. Over 2022, I started three books and finished none. It took an entire year of trying to get my head on straight to finally finish my latest manuscript.

It wasn’t writers block. I was still producing a thousand words a day. It was planners’ block. I just couldn’t seem to create a plan I could stick to. Every time I did, something would come up and the plan would go awry and that was that. A week lost, feeling bad that life had gotten in the way.

And it was life getting in the way. A kid would get sick, the house would need unexpected work, a volunteer gig would take up more time than expected. And little by little, the gap between my plan and my reality got larger and larger. And my shame grew and grew.

I used to worry that I was a lazy person. I worried about it all the time because I spend a lot of time resting. It took until I was in my thirties to realize that I spend a lot of time resting because when I’m not, I’m overproducing. I have two speeds. Do everything as fast as humanly possible or become one with the couch.

I wish I were different. I have tried to be different. But I’m not able to. I am either fully on or fully off. And learning that about myself means that if my plans don’t incorporate both being fully engaged in life’s interruptions and being fully disengaged for necessary rest, then they’re not of any use to me. This fall, I tried to ignore all that one last time and really hustle to get my manuscript done.

I stuck to the plan. I got the right number of words written. But the manuscript was far from done. I needed to rework huge sections of it, sections that had clearly been written by a person under pressure, just trying to stick to the plan. I was more concerned with my daily word goal than the quality of the book. It probably took an additional two months to write because of my so-called plan.

Since then, I’ve been trying to take it slower. To have a guide, an outline even, but no set deadlines and no expectations. This stage of my life is all about balance. It seems like every area of my life is turned up to eleven - work, family, house stuff, friendships - both in the best of ways and the worst of ways. So, if all my plans go belly up, there’s nothing wrong with me. It wasn’t because I didn’t work hard enough or create the right schedule. It was because, for the first time in a long time, maybe I’ve got my priorities straight - deal with what’s in front of me, and trust that everything that needs to get done will get done. Including those pesky manuscripts.

What a novel idea.