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Have
you ever felt as though someone, or something, tries to stop you from
writing? You know, an evil force on a perverse mission to hinder you
from finishing an article, a short story, or perhaps even that next
breakout novel? It may sound crazy, but I’ve encountered this more
times than I can count.
Several years ago, I landed an
assignment with a wonderful publisher. The two editors I worked with
were the nicest people. After turning in my first article, one of them
asked me to submit two more. Before I could finish, a shortfall
occurred.
And it was over.
Just like that.
Around the same time, a white
dove I’d had for over twenty years died. The day after my husband and I
buried my feathered friend, I broke out with poison ivy—in the dead of
winter, mind you—and had a severe reaction. As a result, I had to go on
a steroid pack that made me want to do nothing but sleep the whole
time, which was probably a blessing for my husband, since I can’t talk
while I’m sleeping. And my writing waned further.
But that wasn’t the end of it.
My elderly mother had a heart
attack.
One of my cats died.
Seriously, I’m not kidding.
Overwhelmed, I plopped onto my
bed and sobbed. As I sat there, thoughts floated across my mind: Why
bother? You’re never going to make it anyway.
So I surrendered to those
thoughts and walked away from writing—for a few months.
I finally returned, made it over
the hump, and just like before, strange things started happening all
over again.
As I sat in front of my computer
one day, fingers flying across the keyboard, I decided to reward myself
with a piece of chocolate candy. (I won’t mention the type or brand
because I don’t feel like being sued at the moment.) I bit into the
luscious morsel and chewed slowly, savoring the burst of flavor in my
mouth—until my bottom molar cracked.
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Days
later, as I sat quivering
in the dentist’s chair (I have a phobia of dentists), with a root canal
looming in front of me, the tooth broke off the rest of the way and had
to be pulled. At least I avoided pain from the root canal. Right?
Wrong.
The next day I developed a dry
socket. That’s what I get for thinking I avoided anything.
Then another one of my cats
died.
I wish I were kidding.
A few days later, as I tooled
around on our riding lawnmower, sniffling as I passed by one of my
cats'
graves, a swarm of bees chased me. I also had an encounter with some
snakes farther down in the valley.
See what I mean? It’s perverse,
I tell you.
I guess what I’d really like to
know is, well, do these kinds of things ever happen to you? If not,
somebody please stop me before I really get hurt.
Why this happens to me every
time I get a good head of steam going on a project, I’ll never know. I
keep telling myself that I’m on the cusp of something big (it works for
me, Dr. Phil), and that there’s a huge blessing waiting for me if I can
just hang in there and clear the next hurdle. I do wonder, though, how
many more of these obstacles remain in front of me. I don’t think I
really want to know.
And people wonder why I have
such a sparkling personality.
Anyway, I’ve decided to keep
moving forward. I didn’t come all this way to get pushed around by
minions, tragedies, insects, and reptiles.
Wow, now that I’ve vented, I’m
suddenly feeling a bit stronger.
All I know is that if things try
to get in your way, keep moving. Don’t let anyone, or anything, steal
the gift God has given you. Who knows? Your blessing, and hopefully
that next breakout novel, could be waiting for you on the other side.
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