Gang Aft Aglay and other Voices I Hear in My Head

Old kitchens have many layers. 

The best laid schemes o’ Mice an’ Men

gang aft aglay. 

                            “To a Mouse” by Robert Burns

A good translation of the title of today’s post would be, go often astray. Maybe you’ve heard the quote before, as I have, as the “best laid plans.”  Either way, it’s in my head today, with a strong Scottish burr, because that darn kitchen put a bit of a wrench in my plans. 

And now, it’s 5 p.m., and I have not written a word today. 

Last night, we filled the truck with construction debris. I have more cabinets to dismantle, so we needed to go to the landfill when it opened this morning at 7:30 a.m. Then we had to load yard waste; then I needed a shower and breakfast.  Holy, moly, one thing after another, but the good news is that most of the demolition is done.  The bad news is I think I’m going to have to take the ceiling down and put a new one in.  

But, I don’t have to do that in the mornings.  I can do that in the afternoons, taking a writing break when my back gets too sore.  

And, to my credit, I’m sitting down to write now, so there’s that.  There was a time in my life where if I’d missed some goal at a set time I would get so down on myself that I would throw my hands in the air and not do anything:  all or nothing syndrome.  

Now, even if I miss goals, I look for ways that I can make progress on whatever I’m working towards.  There’s another useful slogan for this: progress not perfection.  

I’ll close with some Southern wisdom: Tomorrow is another day (Scarlett O’Hara). 

Old kitchens have so many layers. 

I hope you meet your goals today even if you don’t meet them in exactly the way you wanted to. 

Writing Amid the Chaos

Image copyright Lori Gravley

2019 has been a difficult year.  A young man I considered a third son died at the end of 2018. A friendship that I thought would last a lifetime ended painfully.  My marriage of 28 years gave its last gasp. My dog is dying. My mother’s Alzheimer’s has become so apparent even she admits she might need some help. My younger son has made some difficult and painful choices on his journey to adulthood. Yep, suckity for sure.  

Many of the difficulties are still in flux. I live in a 128-square-foot trailer that was once my office behind the beautiful 1880s farmhouse that I’ve worked hard to make a home but that we’ll be selling in the new year. We’re filing the dissolution papers in the new year for financial reasons even though it’s painful to have to interact and just seems to be prolonging the suffering. My son’s choices still haven’t resolved themselves. My dog is dying slowly, and while I’m glad to still have her companionship, it's difficult to see her suffer.  

But my word for 2019 is flourish, and, you know what, in many ways, I am. I’ve almost completed a new professional credential.  I’ve sent my work into the world. My writing is stronger than it has ever been. I love my vintage trailer, and this year I bought a van. Next year, I’ll live part-time in my trailer on my mom’s property, helping my stepfather care for her; part-time in hotel rooms for work; and part-time in a 21-foot Ram Promaster that has been made into a beautiful Winnebago RV. My tiny dreams are coming true in interesting ways. I am hurting. I am grieving. But I am flourishing. 

This year will be my eleventh NaNo and my tenth win.  I’ve built a new young adult world and made some interesting plans for this year’s novel, and I have an outline for another adult romance that I’ll draft in 2020 (I was prepared early, but then I changed my mind and decided to write YA instead).  The trick or treaters are knocking on the door, and I’m still working on my beats, but that’s okay.  I’ll wake up tomorrow, plan some, write some, downsize and pack a little more, and snuggle with my puppy.  

Really, I’m always writing in the middle of some sort of chaos.  But aren’t we all.  When I first participated in NaNo, my son was twelve.  I wrote while my husband was in Iraq.  I wrote through our first separation. I wrote when my older son and his then-girlfriend (now wife) moved to town for college and grad school.  

Someone said to me a couple of weeks ago, “There are other months you can write novels in.”  And I do write all year long, but I love the wonderful collective energy that is NaNoWriMo, and I welcome this creative collective as a still point in the middle of my shifting world. 

I hope you will, too. There will always be reasons not to write.  There will always be unfavorable external circumstances, but that’s one thing I’ve learned from NaNo, it doesn’t matter what’s happening on the outside, I can create stillness inside of my daily writing practice.